


The Dragon's Brand

by AbyssWalk3r



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: A Crossover Nobody Asked For, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, I Have Way Too Many Terrible Ideas, Multi, Skyrim Mods Are Included
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-04 23:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 53,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14031192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbyssWalk3r/pseuds/AbyssWalk3r
Summary: Grima is slain, and peace has returned to the past that Lucina had so desperately fought to save. Her father lives, and despite Robin's sacrifice, Lucina can't find it within herself to stay in a world she doesn't belong in. Fate is cruel, however, and it seems that gods and dragons still have designs for the young swordswoman, as an ominous Shout carries her through space and time to another war-torn land on the brink of destruction. Vampires, dragons, and everything in between are arrayed against her, with only the mighty Dragonborn as her ally, and Lucina must wield her father's blade in the defense of all she believes in.





	1. The Dragon's Call

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT: I do not own any of the mods that I have placed within this story, such as Phenderix's Magic World and more spells mods, the Increased Population Mods, and the Increased Conjurations Mods. These are only a few mentioned in the story, and they all belong to their rightful owners/creators!   
> I do not own elements from Skyrim or Awakening: these belong to Bethesda and Nintendo, respectively.   
> Also: I will be using Thu'um.org for the Dragon Tongue translations, and as I am not fluent in the language, I apologize now for any inconsistencies with the translations.

_"Yours will be a happy future, now."_ Lucina had whispered those words to her infant self, the child born of this timeline, rather than the hell she'd traveled back in time to prevent. 

At last, the Fell Dragon was dead, and Lucina's dire future had been diverted for good. She could leave this world, content that her father and mother would live happily with their true daughters.

Yet...why did her heart ache so? As Lucina strode through the freezing, bitter wilds of Regna Ferox, the chill was second only to the empty void that threatened to hollow out her chest. Part of her yearned to return to Ylisse, to plunge herself into her parents' arms and live at their side for the rest of their days, but Lucina squashed that rebellious desire underfoot. 

Her duty had been fulfilled: the Fell Dragon would trouble the world no longer, thanks to Robin's sacrifice, and true peace had been secured after so many years of senseless fighting and bloodshed. Lucina no longer had any reason to remain in Ylisse, or this world as a whole. 

She didn't belong here. 

The cold, bitter wind slowed to a crawl before fading entirely, and Lucina's battle-hardened instincts set off warning bells within her mind as an eerie silence filled the snow-covered forest. 

Her gloved hand crept towards the hilt of her beloved Falchion, the future twin of her father's own blade, and her uncovered fingers closed around the rough scarlet leather and metal. She could barely feel her fingers, the muscles within aching and protesting as she forced the nearly frozen appendages to move, and Lucina silently cursed herself for lacking the foresight to purchase fully covering gloves. 

A gravelly, ancient voice filled the forest, chanting in a language she'd never heard before, and Lucina whirled as the monstrous tone rattled further. 

_"_ _Aav_ _Egvir_ _Unslaad_ _!"_

Bright light flared around Lucina, searing into her retinas with agonizing brilliance, and her entire body lurched as an unseen, ethereal hand seized her and flipped her through a shimmering veil that she'd felt only once before, when Naga had brought her to this timeline. Pure white brilliance twisted and churned before her and she tumbled through the fabrics of the world, jerking her this way and that in a violent manner that relocated several internal organs to places they shouldn't have been. 

Then the veils split, catapulting Lucina into a powdery, freezing substance that she deduced to be snow as her vision swam and slithered into blurry focus. 

"Damn Stormcloaks!" The eerie silence shattered instantly, Lucina's heart lurching as the familiar din of battle rattled her ears. 

Steel crashed and screamed, mingling with the hissing of arrows and heavy thrums of bowstrings. Lucina pushed herself up, her cobalt hair dusting her with soft white flakes as she attempted to focus her blurry vision on the world around her. 

"Skyrim will be free from your tyranny!" A female voice shouted over the din of war and death, and a man screamed with agony. 

Lucina spotted dark shapes moving about the snow-dusted forest she found herself within; people, fighting and dying around her in the chaos of war. 

"Die, rebel scum!" There were soldiers clad in gleaming steel armor of a make Lucina had never seen before, their wide-bladed shortswords  sometimes paired with daggers or with cross-shaped shields. 

Lucina's instincts sluggishly pushed adrenaline into her veins, her disoriented body struggling to recover after being thrown about between the worlds in such a manner. At least Naga had been gentle with her transition...

"Hey, there's another rebel over here!" A male voice from behind drew Lucina's attention, and she realized with horror that the soldiers were advancing on her. 

"Are you sure about that?" Another man asked as the silver-clad men approached her warily, their swords readied. "She doesn't look like a Stormcloak." 

"She's wearing blue, just like them," the first man grunted, an interesting helmet covering his head. "And she probably killed the legionnaires that are behind her."

Legionnaires? Lucina sluggishly turned her gaze behind her, stupidly gawping at the mangled corpses painting the snows crimson at her feet.

"N-no...I," she tried to talk, but her head swam with the effort, nearly knocking her over. "W-where am I?" 

"Looks like the rebel bitch got knocked on the head," the first soldier sneered, his gleaming blade pressing itself to Lucina's throat. "A pity she chose the wrong side: she's quite the looker." 

"Back off, you Imperial bastards!" A fierce woman's cry made the soldiers jump, and Lucina jolted as the heavy head of a weapon bashed in the skull of the man threatening her. Warm blood and cranial matter splattered across her face as the legionnaire's head imploded in a storm of flying bone shard and gore, and Lucina fought the urge to unleash Falchion as gloved hands roughly seized her arms and pulled her back. 

"Get her out of here! Take her to the camp while we rout the rest of these faithless dogs!" The woman's voice commanded, the world blurring and swirling even more as the two holding Lucina obeyed, dragging her through the forest with manic speed. 

"Hold on, lass: we'll get you to safety!" A man's calm, soothing voice instructed from her side, and Lucina forced her neck to turn her head to face the speaker. 

She was met with a tall, muscular man clad in a blue chain-mail cuirass of sorts, his head ensconced within a pointed helmet with wide cheek guards and more chain mail, blue cloth covering what the metal faceplate did not. His eyes glanced down through the visor, and the twinkle inside them revealed that the man was smiling at her. 

"W-where am I?" Lucina finally forced her throat to speak, and she almost sighed as her vision cleared and sharpened into focus.

"You stumbled into a battlefield, lass, and you have the nerve to ask where you are?" The man guffawed. "You really took a knock on your skull, didn't you!" 

"A battle between whom?" Lucina glanced around at the snow-dusted forest, wondering if she was still in Regna Ferox. 

The two men slowed to a halt, staring at Lucina with wide, incredulous eyes. 

"Yer joking, aren't ye, lass?" The other man spoke, his voice gravelly and markedly older than his companion's. 

"I wish I was," Lucina attempted to put weight on her legs, found that they held her upright with ease. 

"Are you new to Skyrim?" The first man asked, releasing Lucina as she shifted her weight from leg to leg. 

"Y-yes," she had no idea where this 'Skyrim' was, but Lucina still had much to learn about the world. 

Perhaps this was a continent she'd never travelled to before? That odd voice...maybe it was a guardian of this world that needed help in quelling this war?

"Where'd you come from, lass? Cyrodiil? High Rock?" The younger man studied her. "Your gear is unlike anything I've ever seen before..."

"I'm afraid not. I come from a land called Ylisse." 

"Ylisse? What in Talos' name is Ylisse?" The older man muttered. "Are ye alright in th' head, lass?" 

"Maybe she's not from Tamriel," the younger man spoke, and Lucina noted that a thick accent tinged both men's voices. "There are other continents in this world that we have yet to discover, after all, aside from Atmora." 

"Bah! Let's keep moving!" The older man grunted, his grip on Lucina's arm tightening painfully. 

"Easy there, Leif," the younger man cautioned. "You're hurting her." 

"Like I care! The commander told us to bring this wench to the camp, and I'll do just that!"

Lucina frowned and dug her feet into the ground as the man, Leif, attempted to drag her forward. "I can stand on my own."

"Little bitch," Leif growled, his hand going for the curved war-axe hanging in a metal eye on his belt. 

Lucina's instincts kicked in, and she snapped a leg out in a vicious blow that connected with Leif's unprotected shin. The man howled in pain and released her, staggering back with a flurry of hissed oaths.

Lucina grabbed Falchion and drew the weapon with a practiced, flawless motion, oiled steel and leather hissing softly against one another as the blade came free. She twisted her body into her self-taught stance, holding Falchion horizontally from her left shoulder. Her right hand, which held the blade, was tightened and ready to lunge, her left arm held out below her right for balance. 

"Whoa! Whoa! Easy there!" The younger man jumped in between the two fighters, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Leif, what in Talos' name are you doing?!" 

Lucina never turned her gaze from the older fighter, who had unhooked his axe and was clearly burning for combat as he bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

"Yes: what are you doing, old man?" The commanding woman's voice from before demanded, and Lucina spun to see a woman clad in thick leather approaching. 

Her pale face was scarred and rough, her vambraces lined with spikes and a thick bear hide draped over her back. 

"Commander," the old man holstered his axe. "This wench was-"

"Defending herself from you," the woman spat as she advanced, her massive warhammer smeared with blood and dried gore. "Get back to the camp before I turn your head into mush." 

"Yes, Commander," Leif spat before storming off. 

In the distance, tucked in the forest and resting at the bottom of a rocky outcropping, lay a camp of fur-covered tents arrayed around a larger one that Lucina surmised the commander rested. 

"Sorry about him: Leif can be a hard case," the woman strode over, her weathered features curved into a warm smile. "My name is Arya, and that there is Ralof."

"My name is Lucina," she returned the smile, sliding Falchion into its scabbard. "You have my thanks, milady, for rescuing me from those...soldiers." 

Arya nodded. "Of course. I wouldn't just stand idly by while those faithless dogs had their way with a woman who wasn't capable of defending herself. You were saying that you're not from Tamriel at all, we you not?"

"Y-yes, milady," Lucina realized, rather belatedly, that she was still in her combat-ready stance and made an effort to relax and lower Falchion. 

"Please, just Arya will be fine," the woman laughed, her hazel eyes sparkling with warmth. "Come on, let's get to camp. We can swap stories and get out of the cold, eh?" 

Lucina found herself smiling back. "That would be appreciated, mil-er, Arya!" 

Here, so far from home and in yet another strange world she didn't belong in, Lucina wondered what role she would have to play this time. 

 

Far away, in the frigid, ice-covered docks of Windhelm, the  _Northern Maiden_ sloshed back into port, her exhausted crew all but collapsing the moment the vessel was tethered safely and securely to the dock.

"Captain Gjalund, I really hate going to Solstheim," one of the deckhands groaned. 

"As do I, lad. Hopefully, the Dragonborn's request will be the only one we shall have to honor from here on out," the burly, bearded captain sighed as he leaned on the vessel's bulwarks.

"I hope he deals with this Miraak character," the deckhand murmured. "From the stories we've been hearing, that guy's been capable of controlling the entire island of Solstheim!" 

"Have faith, lad: the Dragonborn defeated Alduin, the World Eater! Surely, this Miraak will prove far easier to put down," Captain Gjalund replied optimistically, although his weariness stretched his words. 

None of the crew noticed the almost utterly invisible form rise from the storage compartments and slip ashore, vanishing among the bustle of Argonian crews.    


	2. Soldiers of The Bear

"I do not have much experience in dealing with empires, but what I have seen leads me to believe that one is just as terrible as the other," Lucina remarked as she sat upon a stiff, wooden chair in Arya's tent, listening to the Stormcloak commander explain the situation brewing in Skyrim. "And this one is no exception." 

"Aye, you have the right of it, Lucina," Arya sighed, her long brown hair tied back into several braids that actually matched the bear hide she often wore in color. "If anything, Tiber Septim would be ashamed of what his once-good Empire has become." 

"He is the one you call Talos, yes?" Lucina asked, glancing out the open tent flaps at the bustling camp outside. 

Stormcloak soldiers, male and female, scurried about, sharpening weapons, moving supplies, or stoking cookfires and roasting meat. Voices rose and fell over the din of metal and crackling fires, and Lucina felt oddly nostalgic for all the camps she'd struck with the Shepherds, back in Ylisse. 

"Yes. And now his own Empire has banned his worship thanks to those damn elves!" Arya growled, offering Lucina a clay tankard filled with a steaming broth. "Drink this: you must be freezing." 

Lucina could smell honey and sighed as the aroma wafted over her senses.

Arya smiled wanly. "A little mead ought to warm your bones, and it won't dull your mind." 

Lucina lifted the mug to her lips and gingerly took a sip, sighing as the liquid ambrosia spilled warmth into her bones. 

"It's heavenly," she crooned, Arya's grin making heat rush to her cheeks. 

"Ha! I'll be certain to remember that you like this in the future!" The older woman laughed, and a rustle of activity from outside drew both of their attention. 

"Commander!" It was the younger of the two soldiers from before, Ralof. "Orders have come in from Galmar!" 

"Old Stone-Fist? Lay it on me," Arya grunted, setting down the second mug she must have just picked up. 

"We're to march to the aid of our sister camp in Whiterun," Ralof reported, and Arya jolted in alarm. 

"We're marching on Whiterun?! What is Stone-Fist thinking?!" 

Ralof flinched at the woman's outburst, but quickly composed himself. "Balgruuf's spread his troops thin trying to protect his hold from the dragons, and the Dragonborn has departed, so there is naught to keep us from taking the city." 

"What? The Dragonborn's left Whiterun?" Arya's surprise drew Lucina's attention, and she turned to the older woman. 

"Begging your pardon, but who is the Dragonborn?" Lucina asked: in the hours that she'd been in this camp, she and Arya had only touched on the subject of the war of succession from the Empire and Lucina's own world. 

"The Dragonborn is the hero of Skyrim, said to have the blood and soul of a dragon. He can use their ancient powers of the Thu'um, or Voice, to project his power in what are called Shouts. Not long ago, he managed to force Ulfric and that puffed up Imperial governor Tullius to agree to a temporary truce so he could kill the World Eater, Alduin," Arya explained. "The Dragonborn is immensely powerful compared to any normal man, and he is the only warrior alive who can permanently kill a dragon by absorbing their soul." 

"World-Eater? Dragons?" Lucina frowned. 

"Aye. Alduin's return to our world was said to herald our doom, but the Dragonborn saved not only our lives, but our souls as well when he laid the monster low," Arya nodded. "If only he would be fighting on our side, to free Skyrim from Imperial tyranny..." 

"The Dragonborn's fighting for the Empire?!" Lucina's mind immediately raced to seek a reason for this noble hero to serve tyranny: mayhaps it was like what Walhart did to Yen'fay? Using a family member as a hostage to force cooperation? 

Arya shook her head, dispelling Lucina's prospecting. "No, the Dragonborn's refused to take a side in this war of ours, much like Whiterun. He's actually a Thane of the city, which means that he's a member of Jarl Balgruuf's court and openly lives in Whiterun." 

"But...if Whiterun is neutral, then why attack it?" Lucina glanced at Ralof, her instincts twitching for a fight. 

"Balgruuf is not-so-subtly leaning in support for the Imperial Legion, and we cannot allow Whiterun to fall into Imperial hands. If the center of Skyrim is arrayed against us...I shudder to think of what could happen." 

"Markarth may be ours, thanks to the terms of the Dragonborn's treaty, but the legions in Riften are making probe after probe into Windhelm, attempting to flank us," Ralof sighed after Arya had finished speaking. "If we were to lose Whiterun because Balgruuf can't keep himself out of the war, then we'd be doomed." 

Lucina glanced at the map on Arya's large table, reminding herself of where the holds they were speaking of were locating. Riften and Windhelm comprised the eastern reaches of Skyrim, the holds bordering one another, while Markarth was nestled in the mountains to the far west of the province. Markarth was surrounded by Solitude and Falkreath as well as the mountains the city, itself, was built into, and neither Stormcloak position seemed to hold many advantages. 

"If we march down towards Whiterun from the north while our sister camp attacks from the south...yes, this could work," Arya mused. "With the Imperials still disorganized from abandoning Markarth and moving into Riften, we'll be able to get to Whiterun with minimal trouble, especially since Balgruuf's pet dragon has left for an island off Skyrim's coast." 

"Solstheim," Ralof supplied, and Arya nodded absently. 

"Yes, yes...Without the Dragonborn potentially taking up arms against us, we stand a much better chance of taking the city with minimal bloodshed," Arya chuckled.

"Forgive me, but is this Dragonborn's power truly so terrible?" Lucina spoke up, if only to get an understanding of the legends surrounding this dragon-warrior. 

Both Stormcloaks nodded slowly, the haunted look in their eyes testament enough to how much they feared this man.

"He's a master of Alteration and Illusion magic, and his abilities with a blade are no laughing matter, especially when combined with his dragon instincts, strength, and the power of the Voice," Arya said slowly, gazing down at the map as if it held the visage of the terrible warrior. "I watched him fight three dragons at once, lass, during a move we made to get to Markarth. It was near Dragontooth Crater, which had, ironically, become a dragon roost, and he felled all three of the beasts with ease no mortal man could possibly muster." 

"How did he fight?" Lucina pressed, eager to learn all she could about this warrior-perhaps it was he who had called her?

Arya shook her head. "I...I don't even know how to describe it, Lucina. His magic was bending the world around him, making it appear as if he were in several places at once, all the while Shouting enough to rip scales from the beasts' hides with every word. The dragons couldn't even touch him."

Such power! Lucina's flesh erupted into goosebumps at the vivid description, and even Ralof shuddered.

"To think that man was a prisoner along with myself and Jarl Ulfric at Helgen...He was powerless, back then, and now he could obliterate us with a single word," the man shook his head slowly. "He's not going to be happy when he hears we've taken Whiterun." 

"But he won't be able to do anything about it unless he declares himself loyal to the Empire," Arya shot back. 

"And what if he does? If we make enemies of the Dragonborn, then our fight for freedom is finished!" Ralof insisted. "We all know what that man is capable of!" 

"Aye, I know! But we have no choice!" Arya snapped, and Ralof stiffened as she glared at him. "Get the troops ready to march!" 

Lucina could almost feel Ralof's hesitation, but he bowed his head. "As you command." 

Then he ducked out and began relaying the orders, drawing a cheer from many soldiers. 

Lucina would have to make a decision soon: continue wandering this unfamiliar land and hope to stumble across her purpose, or go with the Stormcloaks until all is made clear? The latter was tempting, especially since they were freedom fighters and they did wear her favorite colors. 

"What will you do, lass?" Arya asked softly. "I'd rather not involve you with us if you don't wish to do so." 

Lucina debated silently for several tense moments, before she nodded, dispelling her raging thoughts and setting her mug upon the table.

"I'll come with you, if you'll have me. Who knows: maybe I was brought here to aid you in freeing Skyrim from the Empire?" 

Arya's weathered face broke into a bright smile, and she laughed light-heartedly. "I get the feeling we're going to become very good friends, Lucina!" 

Lucina returned the smile, reaching out and clasping Arya's offered hand and marveling at the strength she felt in the woman's grasp. "As do I." 

First thing's first: Lucina had to get herself further acquainted with the Stormcloak troops, and so she stepped out into the cold afternoon to aid in breaking down the camp. 

The soldiers were a little adverse to a stranger suddenly showing up to take everything down, but as the hours passed, Lucina found that she'd developed a small following of soldiers wherever she went. Mostly because she regaled them with tales of Ylisse, and of the wars she and her father had fought to save the world from the Fell Dragon. 

She smiled and listened to their own stories: why they joined the rebellion; the families that they were fighting for; just little bits and pieces that got her mind off of the tasks at hand. 

"Damn, if only our dragons were as benevolent as your Naga was," one Stormcloak woman named Rille commented. "The beasts here are savage monsters compared to what you're describing." 

"And ye tell me that ye and yer father regularly ate b _ear_ meat?" Another man, wearing a horned helm that didn't obscure his face grinned a gap-toothed grin. "Maybe we can learn a thing or two from ye!" 

Lucina paused to roll up a tent and packed it onto a waiting wagon, all thoughts on the cold long forgotten as she thanked the soldier who'd taken the roll. 

"Don't tell me yer actually believing this mouthy little wench?" Lucina's mood dampened immediately at the familiar, dour voice of Leif. "Look at her! D'ye really think this noble bitch is a soldier?" 

Her temper flared, and Lucina spun towards the older man. "If you wish to see a demonstration of my skills, I would be more than glad to provide one!" 

Leif sneered at her, his weathered features peeking out from beneath a new helmet that had no visor and greying hair swaying in the wind. His beard was thick and bushy, and Lucina fought back a childish urge to shave it all off with Falchion. 

"Come on, then! Show me what ye got!" He unhooked his axe and charged, barely giving his companions time to scramble out of harm's way. 

Lucina unsheathed Falchion with a lone hand and, in a move that made the increasing number of onlookers gasp, tossed the weapon into the air with practiced precision. Leif's arrogant sneer only grew, and his lips parted to spit out another insult. 

"What's the matter? Do ye really think-" he paused as Lucina gathered her muscles and launched herself into the air, somersaulting over the Stormcloak and expertly snatching Falchion's hilt from the apex of its ascent. 

She could feel the eyes of dozens upon her as she landed at Leif's rear, pressing Falchion into the small of his back. "I win." 

It was only then that she became aware of the pregnant silence filling the camp, and Lucina glanced around at the crowd of staring, blue-clad soldiers. 

"Bitch!" Leif lurched forward, away from Lucina's blade, and spun, lashing out wildly with his axe. 

Lucina ducked underneath the savage, graceless blow and lunged, smashing the flat edge of her blade into Leif's gut. The old soldier wheezed as the breath was forcefully expelled from his lungs, and Lucina capitulated on his weakness by sweeping his legs out from under him. The Stormcloak crashed onto the snowy earth, kicking up a spray of white powder upon impact. 

Lucina scowled at him, disgust stinging her throat as she slid Falchion back into its scabbard. "Do not attempt such a cowardly action a second time, or I will be forced to cut you down." 

"Damn, she's  _fast_!" An unnamed soldier commented, and the entire camp erupted in a chorus of cheers. 

"How's that for a noble wench, Leif?" Another taunted, and Lucina flushed as she became the center of a horde of enthusiastic displays of back-pounding and hand shaking. 

Amidst the celebrations, Lucina glimpsed Leif shoot her a dark, murderous glare before picking himself off the ground and stomping away. She had no idea why he despised her so, but she made a note to keep an eye out for him in case he should attempt to harm her again. 

"By Talos, this lass can fight!" 

"Nicely done, Lucina," Arya was suddenly there, the crowd of soldiers parting to let the grinning woman through. "A little unorthodox, but you're certainly far more skilled in battle than any of us, if that small glimpse of your ability is saying anything." 

Lucina flushed with embarrassment as she rubbed Falchion's hilt. "W-well, perhaps I overdid it?" 

The soldiers around her roared with laughter, making her jump, and the hands pounding her shoulders and back came again. 

"All right, you lot! Move out!" Arya bellowed over the clamor, and Lucina looked at the woman in surprise. 

Surely the camp hadn't already been taken down? 

Yet, as she looked around, she saw that all the carriages had been loaded and the horses saddled, and all that remained of the camp were the faint outlines of tents on the earth and the smoldering, blackened remains of cookfires. 

"That was quick," she murmured, her voice lost to the clamor of the soldiers as they scrambled to get to their places. 

Arya gave her a strange look. "Were you really not paying attention, Lucina? You've been working with the brothers and sisters for hours, breaking everything down." 

"Ah," heat flushed her cheeks and she smiled awkwardly. "To tell the truth, I lost track of time." 

"You are becoming quite the catch!" Arya laughed, draping an arm around Lucina's shoulders. "Come, I would like you to accompany me on the march!" 

Lucina smiled, warmth blossoming in her breast. "It would be my honor!" 


	3. Assault on Whiterun

"This land is breathtaking!" Lucina breathed as the frigid, snow-covered tundra gave way to lush greenery almost at the drop of a hat. 

"Welcome to Whiterun hold!" Arya swept an arm forward, beckoning to the valley stretching out before the mountains pass. 

Lucina immediately spotted the large stone walls looming tall atop a great hill in the distance, yellow banners depicting a horse's head fluttering softly in the breeze. A farmhouse rested further up the cobblestone path, and Lucina caught a glimpse of a woman dashing inside as the Stormcloak column continued its march. 

"We're on the ass end of Whiterun, ain't we?" One soldier at her side muttered. 

"We're approaching from the North, our sister camp attacks from the South," Arya reached up with a hand and tugged her massive, gleaming warhammer into her grasp. "Eyes alert: the Whiterun guard have a watchtower back here, and they won't take too kindly to seeing us approach." 

Lucina absently fiddled with Falchion's hilt, her gaze never leaving the majestic city lording over the Hold. The air had grown warmer as the frozen forests fell to the army's rear, and the breeze carried the faint scent of lavender and smoke with it. 

The sun hovered high over Skyrim, fighting the cold weather for supremacy over the land. 

"Are you certain you want to stand with us, Lucina?" Arya's muscular frame hustled up beside the younger woman. "The moment you draw steel against Balgruuf's men, you'll be deemed a Stormcloak traitor, just like the rest of us. If the Empire gets a hold of you, they'll kill you without hesitation." 

"She's wearing blue and marching with us: she's already a Stormcloak, in the Empire's eyes," another soldier remarked drily. 

Lucina shrugged. "An Empire that oppresses its people is no friend of mine, no matter how powerful it might appear to be." 

Walhart had taught her  _that_  particular lesson in the harshest manner possible, but the Conqueror had been defeated, in the end. Perhaps liberating Skyrim would allow the rest of those under Imperial tyranny to rise up, in their own time, until all of Tamriel was free. 

"If you've made up your mind, then stick close to me. Balgruuf likely fortified his city after the Dragonborn trapped that beast in his keep," Arya nodded slowly, as if an idea had just come to mind. "It'll be bloody, but let's hope this fight ends quickly." 

Lucina nodded silently, the clinking of metal and rustling of fur boots drowning out any other thoughts as Arya barked a command to advance. 

The army stomped forward over the cobbled path, and Lucina inhaled the woodsy scent of the trees around them. 

A few moments passed, and a simple, almost rundown tower of gaudy stone and wood came into sight further up the hill. Those yellow horsehead banners fluttered in the warm breeze, Lucina's cape and cobalt hair mirroring the gentle swaying. 

The relentless din of an army on the move was a familiar one, as were the grim, determined faces of those soldiers who didn't wear the obscuring visors and pointed helms. The tension was electrifying the air, and Lucina inhaled deeply in an attempt to soothe her nerves. 

Horns blew from the tower, and Lucina spotted a small group, perhaps half a dozen, of soldiers clad in cuirasses similar in style to the Stormcloaks', except the guards' were yellow in color, and their wooden shields bore the Hold's emblem. 

"The Stormcloaks are coming! Send word to the Jarl!" A man shouted, only for an arrow to punch through his helm. 

Ralof charged with a small contingent of blue-clad soldiers, shouting as they swarmed over the guards and put them to the sword. Lucina forced herself to gaze at the broken, bloodied bodies of the guards, silently apologizing as the Stormcloak army advanced up the road. 

She could hear shouting coming from the city, itself, and as the Stormcloaks marched past a series of farmhouses, Lucina spotted another small army of blue soldiers stampeding towards the walls. The 'sister camp', she assumed as she freed Falchion from its scabbard. 

"For Skyrim!" Arya shouted, her voice carrying over the chaos and being echoed by the rest of the army. 

Lucina quickly scanned the upcoming battlefield, eager to put everything that Robin had taught her to good use. As far as she could tell, there was only one entrance into Whiterun: the lone gatehouse that curved up the hillside, surrounded by partially collapsed stone walls and recently erected palisades of sharpened wooden tree trunks. 

The first archway was blocked off by barricades of sharpened poles while archers rained down arrows from the ramparts, the wooden watchtower resting further up the hill, and the upper levels of the gatehouse, itself. 

"Hmph, I have to give Balgruuf credit: he was ready for us," Arya muttered, and Lucina followed the Stormcloak as she charged towards the first of the barricades. 

The air grew colder as if a giant had emptied its frosty lungs, and the Stormcloak charge slowed.

_"_ _Ven_ _Mul_ _Riik_ _!"_

The Stormcloak armies froze on the spot, those who'd been hacking at the barricades scrambling backwards as if they had just burst into flames. 

Thick, icy mist formed over the battlefield, cloaking all present in a shimmering veil. Goosebumps erupted all over Lucina's flesh as her visibility drained away to mere feet, the startled cries of the Stormcloak soldiers eerily muffled by the all-encompassing veil. 

That voice! It was speaking in that strange, three-word tongue that had summoned her here, yet it wasn't the same. It sounded human, with a deep baritone that sent its Voice echoing through Lucina's bones and mind, unlike the raspy, gravelly roar that had brought her to Skyrim.

"Impossible! The Dragonborn's supposed to be on Solstheim!" A Stormcloak cried, whirling frantically about and nearly smacking Lucina with her long-handled battleaxe. 

"Fall back!" Arya bellowed at the top of her lungs. "Fall back! Before he joins the fray!' 

 _"_ _Kren_ _sosaal_ _! Hi_ _lor_ _wah_ _nos_ _fod_ _Zu'u_ _lost_ _nusaan_ _?"_  That voice rattled on, scraping Lucina's ears.  _"Hi_ _los_ _sahlo_ _!"_

"Run! All of you!" Arya shrieked, her powerful hand clamping upon Lucina's arm. 

"Stop! Stop! We're surrounded!" Another voice pierced the veil, and Lucina froze as swirling shapes took form in the mist. 

Magical energy swirled and expanded all around her, warping the air, and Lucina flinched as hissing steam drowned out all other sound, followed by clanking and rattling metal.  

 _"_ _Mul_ _Qah_ _Diiv_ _!"_ Light flared from what had been the direction of the barricades, golden and aetherial light flaring in all sorts of hues in the shape of a draconic aura. 

"Talos save us! He's here!" 

 _"Lok Vah Koor!"_ A shockwave of power rippled through the mist, emanating from the Voice of that glowing figure, and the mist faded almost instantly. 

Lucina spun to study the man that Arya and so many other Stormcloaks feared so greatly, and her heart leaped into her throat. He was tall and broadly built, covered from head to toe in the strangest silver armor Lucina had ever seen. The chestplate completely ensconced his torso, riddled with odd, swirling designs of unfamiliar origin that seemed to pulse with energy. Thick pauldrons covered his shoulders, and large gauntlets with some sort of odd protrusion attached to the backs of the vambraces shielded his hands and forearms. More silver-colored plates shielded the black kilt draping from his waist, also etched with those odd designs, the man's heavy looking boots made of the same material. 

What unnerved Lucina the most, however, was the helmet that was staring at the army, the humanoid mien etched upon its visage seeming to be filled with rage, its 'mouth' shouting a silent battle cry. A decorative metal crest seeming to mimic horsehair plumes ran sideways across the top of the helm, pulsing with faint light. 

His 'eyes' were glowing gold as energy swam and rippled around him, his torso lined with spikes on both the front and back. His arms, too, were shrouded within the golden avatar, as were his legs, and Lucina swallowed nervously as terrible power radiated from his body. 

Then she noticed the ring of strange creatures surrounding the Stormcloak host: dozens of silver creatures seeming to be made entirely of metal, spewing white clouds of steam from openings in their humanoid bodies. Two thin legs held the odd creatures to the strange looking 'ball' that they rose from, the designs on the Dragonborn's armor also present on the two frontal edges of the sphere. 

The things' rectangular heads were etched with a strange, empty 'face' and grooves, their torsos swaying slightly amidst the steam shrouding them. Lucina, for the life of her, could not figure out how the creatures could even function with such spindly limbs, limbs that she now saw were filled to the brim with weapons. Each one's left 'hand' was a miniature crossbow, fitted with glowing yellow/red bolts that were currently aimed at the Stormcloaks, while a gleaming, double-edged sword blade protruded from whatever those contraptions on their right arms were. 

"Dwarven Spheres!" Arya spat a curse under her breath as the Stormcloaks clustered together, desperate to put some distance between them and the creatures. "Damn it! I knew he was a talented mage, but this is absurd!" 

"Stormcloaks!" The Dragonborn's voice echoed through Whiterun hold, drawing Lucina's gaze back to the draconic warrior. "Listen and listen well!"

"He can speak normally?" Lucina commented to herself. "But what was that other language?" 

And what in Naga's name were those...Spheres? 

"Dragon-tongue," Arya replied. "He only uses it when he's angry or talking to someone else fluent in it." 

"I have tried, throughout the course of this war, to remain neutral and to respect both sides equally," the Dragonborn's powerful gaze roamed over the army massed before his home, sending ripples through Lucina's blood. "But you fools are making that endeavor quite difficult. As of recently, you Stormcloaks have been taking every opportunity to draw steel against me, even though I have done nothing to draw your ire. Your patrols assault me, your soldiers harass me in the Holds under your control, and your camps, which once welcomed my healing magics, now threaten me whenever I draw near." 

He raised a silver/golden arm dramatically, his powerful voice resonating. "And now you attack my home and threaten those I have come to call family. If I didn't know any better, I would think that you Stormcloaks  _want_  me to be your enemy. Give me one reason why I shouldn't paint the  _Gol_ with your blood!" 

His gaze settled onto Lucina, and she could feel the weight of his regard prodding her very soul. 

 _"Wo_ _los_ _hi?"_ He approached her, the Stormcloaks parting before his golden/silver form as a sea. "Who are you?" 

Lucina sheathed Falchion, even as the blade warned her of the presence of a powerful dragon, and raised her head high.

"My name is Lucina, sir. And yours?" She steeled herself as that terrible figure stopped before her, towering a good head or two over her. 

A soft chuckle, barely audible beneath the hissing and clanking of the Spheres, escaped that terrifying helm. "I am Drake Caesar, or just Caesar, if you please." 

"A pleasure, Sir Caesar," Lucina found her steel softening at his cordial response. 

"Powerful blood courses your veins, Lady Lucina," he murmured. "You are not of this place, are you?" 

She shook her head, wanting to say more, to learn more, but Arya pulled her back. 

"We'll leave, Dragonborn," the Stormcloak commander offered, placing herself betwixt woman and dragon. 

"Do so, but know that this was the last insult that you Stormcloaks will offer me and Whiterun," Caesar rumbled, the anger tightening his voice. "My Jarl Balgruuf has written to General Tullius, declaring his intentions to side with the Empire in this war of yours. Whiterun will stand against Ulfric Stormcloak, and as Thane, I am bound to my Jarl's will." 

"You Imperial-loving bastard!" Arya spat, slamming her hammer's haft into the earth. "You'll doom us all to a lifetime of slavery to the Thalmor!" 

"And you are a fool if you think I'd willingly give mankind up to those arrogant mer," Caesar replied coldly. "Mark my words, Stormcloaks: the next time we meet on the battlefield will be the last." 

"We'll take our leave," Arya snarled, grabbing Lucina's shoulder tightly enough to make her wince from the spikes of pain that followed. 

The Dragonborn's still glowing eyes, barely visible through the helmet's visor, narrowed in cold calculation, the power resonating from him making every one of the hairs on Lucina's neck and arms stand on end. 

"You'll go towards the Reach and Markarth," he ordered, with such finality that Lucina realized with dim horror that to refuse would mean death. "And your little army will be followed every step of the way to ensure that you cause no trouble for Whiterun Hold." 

Lucina jolted as loud crashes sounded from the Spheres surrounding the Stormcloak army, each thing folding in on itself until an actual silver ball was all that remained. The Spheres rattled away, parts of their edged bodies rotating like wheels to carry them, and the Stormcloaks found themselves staring at a loose ring allowing them to escape. The condensing power radiating from the Dragonborn made the air, itself ripple, and the eyes of every Stormcloak locked onto him. 

"Followed? Followed by whom?" Lucina wondered aloud in the thick silence, Arya's thick gauntlets clamping over her mouth and shoving the taste of foul leather and sweat upon her tongue.

Caesar's eyes settled upon her, and Lucina sensed pity in his gaze as his palms swirled with abyss-like magical power. "I suggest you run, Stormcloaks, I'll give you a minute's head start. And, Lady Lucina? I pray you survive this, so that we might meet again under more cordial circumstances." 

Arya's grip tightened even further, Lucina biting down a gasp of pain as her shoulder bone was spliced with hot agony. 

"RUN! TO MARKARTH!" The Stormcloak shrieked at the top of her lungs, and the back ranks of the army peeled off as fast as their legs would carry them. 

Lucina stared at Arya, baffled, stumbling as the Stormcloak's powerful arms nearly yanked her off her feet. 

"What are we running from?!" She shouted over the stampeding horde of blue-clad soldiers, wincing as Arya's grip tightened further, to the point where she feared the woman's brute strength would snap her wrist. 

"Draugr!" A man screamed, his voice barely cresting over the chaos.

Lucina dared to look over her shoulder at the swirling magical voids bursting to life around the Dragonborn, and her heart stopped at the sight of the line of tall, decaying undead soldiers that appeared. Their eyes glowed with an otherworldly blue light, their musculature and tendons greyed and taut despite how their flesh had been almost eaten away. 

Each undead soldier was clad in ancient-looking plate armor with tattered chain mail and leather bindings, rotted fur protruding from the shoulders and the waists. Thick iron helmets covered their heads, topped with the black horns of an animal Lucina couldn't recognize jutting up into the skies. 

"Run!" 

"By Talos, get us out of here!" 

Lucina's heart ached as she stared at the emaciated, decayed faces staring at the retreating Stormcloak army, even as their snarling tombstone teeth gnashed together in anticipation of the chase to come. The Spheres rattled away en masse, the noise deafening Lucina and raking knives through her ears as the creatures gathered around their master, behind the undead.

"Who were those people?" She murmured to herself, Arya cursing as she stumbled over a fallen log and nearly bringing both of them down to the cobbled streets. 

Her legs were already beginning to burn, and Lucina merged with the blue sea of humanity now steaming away from Whiterun at top speed. Small groups broke away from the main host here and there, scattering away from the road in favor of putting extra distance between them and the city. 

 _"Fus Ro Dah!"_  Ancient, hollowed voices filled the air with their chorus, and Lucina glanced back at the undead-these Draugr-and was immediately smacked in the face by a rippling shockwave the color of the sky. 

She stumbled as a wall of pure power crashed over her, agonizing pain splicing her nerves as her body screamed from the Force of the blast. The blasts rolled over the Stormcloaks, lifting dozens from the ground and tossing them about with disturbing ease. Men and women alike were thrown about, bones and metal crunching in a horrifying chorus as their bodies bounced about the earth. 

"Keep going!" Arya bayed, heaving Lucina forward with a powerful hand. "Don't let those monsters get close!" 

Lucina pushed past the pain, this hot agony, and forced her legs to keep moving. She dared to look back again, through the pained haze, and her throat dried out at the sight of those undead monstrosities shambling after the army, haggard rasping voices belting out phrases in the Dragon-tongue that Lucina couldn't even begin to understand. 

 _"Ro Dah!"_ Another hoarse Shout echoed from a Draugr chasing the army's left flank, a wave of power rolling over men and women alike as if to urge them to run faster. 

"Keep running! Don't stop until we reach Rorikstead!" 

Lucina kept running. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The silver Dwarven Armor is a re-color mod I found myself liking, although the silver color will only apply to Caesar and the Animunculi (Spheres, Centurions, Spiders, Ballistae) that he can summon and control; the rest of the Dwemer stuff will remain their golden/brassy color. And, before you Stormcloak lovers freak out, the Dragonborn will not be joining the Imperial Legion to fight against the rebellion (if anything, his involvement with the civil war is going to minimal while the storyline will focus more so on the DLC of Dawnguard and Dragonborn).   
> I don't want the comments to become a war of Stormcloak vs. Imperial supporters, so I'm just warning you now since I've seen how passionate people can be about their chosen faction.   
> Dragon Tongue Translations: You fools! You thought to strike while I was away? You are weak!   
> Gol=Earth  
> And, yes, the Dragonborn knows Alduin's mist shout, because why not? I'll be straying away from canon in multiple places, so please bear with me. I'll provide an explanation for my thought process when needed, so you can understand why I implemented what I did.


	4. The City of Stone

"It was a good thing you showed up when you did, Drake," Jarl Balgruuf was seated upon his throne in Dragonsreach's grand hall, still clad in his silver-plated armor. "You have my sincerest gratitude for driving away Ulfric's little army and sparing our city from bloodshed." 

Caesar shrugged, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles. The voices of the dragons he'd slain still echoed within him, roiling as that Shout he'd learned from that old barrow sank into his memory. To think he'd be lucky enough to stumble upon Miraak's complete Dragon Aspect Shout recorded upon a Word Wall. Granted, it had been guarded by a black-masked Dragon Priest flinging lightning, but he'd managed to overcome it.

"The Stormcloaks are fools, and now what little hope they had for their rebellion will be crushed," the Dragonborn sighed, the heavy weight of his silver armor making his body ache. "Any word on our little friends' retreat?" 

Balgruuf's weary eyes twinkled with amusement, and a deep chuckle emanated from his throat. "Oh, yes, indeed. Old Rorik wasn't too happy when an army of rebels stampeded through his little hamlet, screaming bloody murder about dragons and Draugr. The Stormcloaks are out of our lands, at least, but I have the feeling this is only the beginning."

"I still dislike those...shades you can summon, Caesar," Irileth, loyal and cautious to a fault, growled. 

Ah...another one who feared the unknown magics of the eldritch Phenderix School. She was right to do so, especially with the powerful spells now at his disposal; spells that master wizards and scholars could only dream of. 

"Think of them as...reflections," he advised, the memory of when he'd first begun practicing the Phenderix spells taken from that dead Psijic burning brightly in his mind's eye. "Mirror images of what this world can hold, and nothing more." 

He'd accidentally conjured a Dragon Priest and had nearly soiled himself when the undead sorcerer had appeared in front of him. He'd managed to master many of those spells, and had gone to learn so many more from that strange wizard: Alcatar. 

"I still don't like them, especially your Draugr." 

"Peace, Irileth," Balgruuf chuckled. "Just be thankful he hasn't conjured an image of you, yet." 

The Housecarl muttered darkly (Caesar silently cursed himself for that pun) and crossed her arms, her red eyes glaring at Caesar. 

"I can do a dragon. Want to see?" He joked, void-like magic swirling within his palm as he drew upon his knowledge. 

Balgruuf snorted, that grin never leaving his lips. "I've had enough dragons in my palace for this lifetime, thank you very much!" 

Caesar chuckled, then doused his magic and collected himself. "In all seriousness, I need to return to Solstheim as soon as this situation allows." 

The Jarl frowned. "Those...strange cultists who attacked you in the city came from there, did they not? What's going on over on that island, Caesar?" 

"The First Dragonborn is back," Caesar murmured, drawing surprised stares from his Jarl and all who were watching. "Miraak. He's been sequestered in the realm of Hermaeus Mora: Apocrypha, waiting for the opportune time to return to the world and enslave it." 

"The First Dragonborn..." Balgruuf murmured. "The gods truly have no shortage of ancient powers to throw you against, do they, my friend?" 

Caesar sighed. "I'm used to it at this point, to tell the truth. And now there's some girl from faraway who's been duped into participating in this war by the Stormcloaks." 

"Ah, yes, the guards said you'd spoken to some blue-haired girl on the battlefield. She's not from Skyrim, then?" 

"No. I have no doubt the Stormcloaks happened across her and fed her their ideals of a 'free' Skyrim," Caesar crossed his arms and frowned, delving into his thoughts. "She's fighting based on half-truths, and she shouldn't even be here, to begin with. I sensed dragon blood in her, as well." 

The court murmured again, Balgruuf's eyes narrowing. 

"Dragon blood? She's also Dragonborn?" 

"No, she isn't," Caesar shook his head. "The dragon blood within her is more residual: a blessing of sorts for her bloodline, I'm guessing. She is not Dragonborn, I assure you." 

"What do you propose we do?" Balgruuf wondered, absently stroking his beard. 

"First thing's first, my duty is to protect the innocent," Caesar recited his self-imposed oath once again. "And I get the feeling I'll learn much from that Lucina girl. I'm going to Markarth before the Forsworn burn the damn city down. And then I'll make my way back to Solstheim." 

"We'll call upon you if we need you, Thane, but I know you'd prefer to not be involved in the war at all," Balgruuf nodded slowly. 

Caesar nodded grimly. "Forgive me, Jarl Balgruuf, but..."

"I know: you've sworn an oath to the Greybeards to stay out of the fighting," Balgruuf rested his head upon his hands. "That was their price for hosting the negotiations, but the Empire needs Skyrim, just as much as Skyrim needs the Empire."

"I know: Ulfric's cause might be noble, but the only thing that can come from a Stormcloak victory is a weakened Skyrim and a weakened Empire. The Stormcloaks are only looking at the short term, rather than the long-term consequences," Caesar sighed. "They forget that the Empire isn't going to kneel forever. The Aldmeri Dominion is the greatest threat to the world now, since Alduin's gone, and the Empire knows it." 

"Change must come from within, not from without," Balgruuf gazed at the dragon skull hanging above his throne. "The Empire has much to be ashamed of, that much is true, but with you here, we can change everything for the better. Not just for Whiterun, or even Skyrim, but all of Tamriel."

For all of our sakes. But...there was another thing that was bothering Caesar.

"Speaking of change...have the vampire attacks I'd been hearing of continued?" Caesar asked. "Those were partially the reason I'd returned to Skyrim on such short notice. A courier from the mainland had arrived at Raven Rock, explaining that the next shipment of food was being delayed because vampires had sacked the merchant ship."

Balgruuf frowned. "Raven Rock...that's the main settlement on Solstheim, is it not?"

Caesar nodded. "I couldn't let the flow of supplies be disrupted, especially since Raven Rock relies so heavily on sea trade." 

"The vampires have been a nuisance, lately, but they've been leaving Whiterun alone," the Jarl murmured, frowning at the hearth blazing in the center of the court. "They've been attacking all across Skyrim, however, but I've heard some organization has formed in the Rift the combat them."

"They call themselves the Dawnguard," Irileth cut in. 

"And what of Solstheim?" Balgruuf asked. "How long are you going to be able to stay away from the island without giving this...Miraak free reign?" 

Caesar rolled his shoulders again underneath the heavy Dwarven armor he'd been given in Blackreach. Given by the last surviving Dwemer, who had been so enfeebled by his astoundingly great age that he couldn't even move from the throne he'd sat upon, gazing out at his abandoned kingdom, kept alive only by the machinery that had been imbued within his own body. He'd never told Caesar his name, only recognized the dragon blood coursing his veins and insisted that he be the one to carry on the Dwemer's legacy. 

The ancient elf had given Caesar his blood, so that he might carry the last dream of an entire race within him, imparting several lexicons with memories to unlock. Even Septimus' lexicon had been empty compared to these.

"I've already broken Miraak's hold over most of the island, barring his temple and the people he's controlling there," Caesar answered Balgruuf. "I've severed all the points of influence he had, and he won't be able to reclaim them so long as my Voice remains in control of the island's Standing Stones." 

Balgruuf nodded. "So, he's contained for now?"

"For now. He won't be able to reclaim the Standing Stones without directly Shouting at them, but he can't leave Apocrypha, so we shouldn't have any issues with him," Caesar explained. "I don't like the idea of him running around with an army of minions wreaking havoc on the island in my absence, however."

Balgruuf nodded. "That is understandable, Dragonborn. But, if he's contained, and Solstheim safe from him reclaiming those Standing Stones, perhaps it would be best to keep your focus here for now?" 

"Agreed. I'd leave some Draugr here to protect the city, but I know how much everyone hates seeing those undead shambling about," Caesar sighed. "Not going to lie: I enjoyed having those Death Overlords at my side at first, until I realized that they didn't try to actually aim their Shouts in combat." 

Balgruuf smirked. "Oh? Do tell: I've noticed that you've been relying more heavily on Dwarven machinery ever since you found that armor of yours."

Caesar snorted. "Oh, I just grew tired of being blasted off my feet by Unrelenting Force every five seconds any time my Draugr retinue and I got attacked by something. At least the Spheres have targeting parameters that allow them to actually aim."

"Ha!" Balgruuf howled with laughter. "I'm just picturing you spinning through the air after getting hit by friendly Shouts."

Caesar rolled his eyes, but a grin formed upon his lips. It wasn't every day that he heard the stoic Jarl laughing. "Several bandits found it amusing as well until the Draugr fell upon them."

Irileth snorted, the only sign that the woman was attempting to suppress a laugh of her own. 

"I must be on my way," Caesar coughed to get the Jarl's attention again. "Forgive me, my Jarl." 

Balgruuf coughed to fight down his laugh, returning to his serious expression as he nodded. "Very well. Go, my friend, go and do what only you can." 

Caesar bowed and turned to leave, pausing as he heard Balgruuf's last words.

"I wonder how the citizens would react to having Dwarven constructs guarding the city walls..."

A fine question, indeed. Caesar supposed he would find out, eventually. But, for now, it was off to Markarth. 

The Reach was so beautiful, even though Lucina could only see the blazing light of the encroaching evening skies painting the vast, rugged landscape a plethora of fiery hues. 

"By Talos, I can't believe we got away from those damn monstrosities," Arya groaned as she slumped, exhausted, upon a tree stump. 

Lucina nodded slowly, bitter memories of the Risen flickering through her mind. "I have the feeling they were only there to herd us along." 

"Aye," Ayra nodded, her gaze surveying the exhausted army dropping to the ground around them. "Good thing we got Markarth and the Reach...the Forsworn would be tearing us apart, otherwise." 

Lucina followed Arya's gaze, frowning at the absurd number of injuries she could see. "Those...blasts did quite the number on us." 

"Aye, some of the more powerful Draugr can Shout," Arya grumbled. "And that Dragon bastard can summon as many of them as he wants." 

A monster who can summon armies...Lucina was again haunted with the visage of the Grimleal from her future. She shook her head slowly: that future had been averted for the better. Now, the wounded that she could hear groaning and crying out for healing had to be tended to, and sanctuary had to be found within the city of Markarth. 

Some of the others had called it a city of stone, built directly out of the surrounding mountains, with small tributaries flowing through the streets. It sounded incredible and impossible at the same time, yet Lucina had seen a city built out of the bones of a giant dragon. 

She supposed a city of stone wouldn't be too far a stretch.

"Do you have any idea what that armor Caesar was wearing is?" Lucina found herself wondering aloud, and Arya shook her head.

"It's Dwarven make, without a doubt, but nobody knows why it's silver, instead of the brass/gold color Dwarven stuff usually is," the Stormcloak murmured. "He just showed up with that armor after delving into some Dwarven ruin or another, and now Dwarven machines won't even touch him." 

"Machines?" Lucina repeated blankly, wondering if that was what those...Sphere things were. 

"Aye: the Dwarves were masters of magic and engineering, and they managed to create entire cities underground, made entirely of stone," Arya sighed. "I'm not an expert on the Dwarves, Lucina. If you want to learn more, perhaps Calcelmo in Markarth will be more than happy to talk your ears off about 'em." 

"All we really need to know about the Dwarves," Ralof sauntered over, limping a bit on his left leg, "is that the entire race just up and vanished thousands of years ago, leaving behind machines and cities that will continue to outlast us for thousands more. Even our brightest scholars don't understand how the machines work or function, except that they're powered by steam and magic." 

Lucina nodded absently, pushing the existence of those otherworldly creatures to the back of her mind and focusing solely on the issues at hand. "How far are we from Markarth?" 

"Not terribly so, perhaps half a day's march, if we push ourselves," Arya responded, running a critical eye over the many wounded soldiers. "We have a smaller camp near Old Hroldan we can drop the wounded off in." 

Lucina didn't question what this Old Hroldan was, choosing to nod, instead. "Alright. And I was wondering who the Forsworn are?" 

Ralof chuckled. "Hoo, boy, lass, that's a long story."

"We have a long journey to make," Lucina countered, drawing a chortle from Arya. 

"She's got a point, and if we run into some of those mad bastards, I want her to be informed," the warrior woman nodded. 

Ralof began spinning his tale as the trio made their way through the mess of Stormcloak soldiers, Lucina listening with as much attention as she could muster with all the chaos and noise filling the air around them. 

They marched, Ralof's voice painting the scene of savage, cannibalistic men and women dressed in animal hides and bones roaming the Reach, sacrificing innocents to appease their Hagraven matrons or their Daedric masters. During the Great War between the Aldmeri Dominion and the Empire, thirty years past, the Forsworn had wrested control of the Reach from Imperial occupation, preying on anyone foolish enough to enter their territory until Ulfric Stormcloak and his soldiers drove them from the city scarcely a few years after their uprising. 

They sounded very primitive and quite vicious, especially if the survivors of the uprising were roaming in the hills, murdering and kidnapping as they pleased. Lucina couldn't help but picture these savage warriors, clad in hide and bone and swinging axes made of stone, even as her legs ached from the demanding, rocky terrain that comprised the Reach. 

Several bears and saber cats harried the host, but a volley of arrows and shouts frightened most of the creatures off. Lucina had had to slay one of the beasts when it latched onto a wounded soldier, dragging the poor woman several feet away before Lucina had gotten to it. The soldier had nearly lost her leg, but several healing potions managed to staunch the bleeding and stabilize her. 

The Reach was a beautiful, yet harsh place, rivers cutting through the rocky land and parting the vegetation sturdy enough to grow on the tough soil. 

"Hey, look at that," Ralof suddenly appeared at Lucina's side again, pointing across the ravine paralleling their path.

Lucina followed his outstretched finger and found herself gazing at a large building rising from a rocky outcropping across the ravine. It was made with a rather Eastern architecture, like what one would see in Chon'sin back home, and appeared to actually expand into the mountainside it was built upon. 

"Sky Haven Temple, I've heard that it's called," Ralof explained. "Don't know much about it, other than that it's apparently home to a bunch of nasty Forsworn who've been camping around the Karthspire before it." 

Lucina nodded slowly, putting her focus onto trudging up the great hill the army-minus the wounded, which had indeed been deposited in a well-established campground with several medical tents- was struggling to traverse. Her muscles burned from the lack of rest, after marching for miles over rough and rugged terrain as the sun blasted the land with stifling heat. 

Lucina almost missed the chill of the Pale. 

"Hey, Lucina! Welcome to Markarth!" Arya's voice snapped her out of her reverie, and Lucina gazed forward as she finally reached the top of the hill. 

Massive stone walls, perfectly cut, rose in the mouth of a gargantuan canyon, towers and bridges lining the cobblestone path leading up the hill to a large staircase and to the great golden gates leading into the city proper. 

Lucina's breath caught in her lungs as her legs continued their trek forward, boots clacking over a stone bridge fording a stream, and her eyes were drawn to the waterfall gushing from the city walls. There was a farmhouse to the right of the river, just before the canyon walls, and just across from it, standing on the opposite bank, was a mine shaft entrance surrounded by more stone buildings. 

"Oof, this is going to be fun," Ralof grunted as he limped at Lucina's side. "Everything's made of stone in this bloody city, even the beds!" 

Lucina raised an eyebrow at that. "The beds are made of stone?" 

"I wish I was joking, lass!" Ralof raised his hands defensively. "Aside from some beds in the Silver-Blood Inn, most of the city's sleeping quarters are made of stone!" 

"I feel sorry for the guards here," another man snorted. "Poor bastards were talking about how much their backs hurt when they first got transferred." 

Lucina winced: she imagined such a sleeping arrangement would be uncomfortable!

"Aye, this is going to be fun," Ralof repeated himself softly. 

The army trudged forward, passing surprised men clad in hide armor and holding a collection of maces and axes. 

"Town militia," Arya explained. "They try to help out the guards as much as they can." 

Another stone wall and tower passed by the Stormcloaks as they trudged up the cobblestones, drawing up to a stable nestled just before the great gates and the blue-clad guards standing watch.

"Ah, they're here!" One of the guards rushed forward, scanning the sea of blue before turning back to her companions. "Tell Jarl Silver-Blood that our brothers and sisters have arrived!" 

"Right away!" Another soldier pushed open the massive gates and dashed inside, metal rumbling as the doors slammed shut behind him. 

The first guard nodded to herself, turning her gaze back to Arya. "We don't have enough room in the barracks and inns for your entire group, even with a good number back in our Reach camp, but there's plenty of room to set up out here." 

"As expected: we're carrying troops from two war camps here, even though we lost quite a few to the damn Dragonborn," Arya growled. 

The guard jolted. "C-Caesar?! But I thought he was on Solstheim!" 

"He came back in the nick of time," Arya replied. "Showed up just in time to Shout us away from the walls and chase us to the Reach with Draugr." 

"Gods...I'm glad he didn't just kill you all," the guard murmured. 

"He had every chance to, especially when he had us surrounded by Dwarven machinery," Arya turned back to Lucina, who was currently staring up at the massive walls. "Lucina, you're with me, come." 

Lucina snapped her attention back to her companion. "R-right!" 

She followed Arya back towards the gates, which rumbled open as the woman pushed against them, and the duo entered a stone city etched into the canyon walls. A small market immediately greeted them, as did a tiny stream gurgling through channels cut in the ground, and Lucina was bombarded with the rich smell of freshly butchered meat. 

A dark-skinned man clad in a dirty white shirt and black trousers was standing before a balding man running the meat stall, fresh and bloody cuts on display as a dark-skinned woman ran a jewelry stall right behind him, negotiating with a Nord customer. 

Lucina trailed after Arya, scarcely taking a few steps into the market when she glimpsed the dark-skinned man at the meat stall suddenly stir, a dagger appearing in his hand. Her senses screamed a warning, her fingers closing around Falchion's hilt as he started stalking towards the fair-haired Nord woman haggling at the jewelry stall.

"For the Forsworn!" The man bellowed, startling all present as he lunged at his prey. 

Lucina intercepted him, ramming Falchion into the man's back and her arms jarring as the divine blade punched through his body with sickening ease. 

"I die...for my people..." The man choked, his warm blood weeping from around Falchion.

Lucina shoved him off her blade, letting the man's corpse thud against the stones. Startled shouts met her, from guards, militia, and civilians alike as a crowd began gathering. 

"B-by the gods, you saved my life!" The Nord who'd been the man's target gasped, clutching at her chest. 

"The Forsworn! Here in the city!" A man cried, and several blue-clad guardsmen began shoving the onlookers away from the corpse watering the stones with its blood. 

"Calm down! There are no Forsworn in the city! The Markarth City Guard have this all under control!" One man shouted. "Disperse!" 

Lucina frowned, a sinister feeling plugging into her gut as the guards took control of the scene. The man had clearly been a Forsworn! He was shouting it before she got to him!

"By the gods, Forsworn here in the city..." Another man, this one wearing a simple tunic and breeches, murmured from beside Lucina. "Are you alright?" 

Lucina nodded. "I'm fine. I'm just glad I got to him in time." 

The man nodded slowly, then held out a piece of paper. "I hope the gods grant you more peace in the future, lass. Is this your note? You dropped it in the confusion." 

"W-what? No, I never-" Lucina's protest was cut short as the man shoved the note into her free hand and walked away. 

Arya took ahold of her shoulders and hauled her away from the scene, guiding Lucina further into the canyon before stopping on a stone bridge. 

"Put your sword away," she ordered, and Lucina hurriedly sheathed Falchion. "What's that note say?" 

Lucina unfolded the paper and read it aloud: "Meet me in the Shrine of Talos." 

Arya frowned, glancing over the bridge at some stone steps carved into the rocks at her side. "He just went in."

Doors rumbled shut, and Lucina caught a glimpse of the man from earlier before the doors fully closed. 

"Do you think it's a trap?" Lucina wondered, and Arya shrugged.

"If it is, he'd be dead in seconds," the warrior woman shook her head. "The two of us combined will be more than a match for him."

Lucina nodded. "Right. Let's go!"

The two women made their way over to the doors and pushed them open, Lucina hearing rushing water nearby and glancing at the ravine spreading out on the western side of the city. A smithy was built on the river cutting through the city, a great waterwheel rumbling as the currents spun it about. Another massive mine shaft was carved further down, a makeshift dock erected where more white-shirt wearing workers were toiling. 

"Cidhna Mine," Arya said sourly. "Owned by the Silver Bloods and the source of all their wealth."

Was it run by slave labor? Her mouth filled with a sour taste, but Arya pulled her into the narrow corridor heading down to a statue of a man standing over a serpent, impaling it with a sword. Strange metal disks of golden metal rested on the walls in several places, something inside of each one emitting a soft glow to light up the shrine. 

"I'm sorry to drag you into Markarth's troubles," the man was standing before the shrine, leaning on one of the pillars holding up the ceiling. "But that attack in the markets proves that I cannot wait any longer. You're an outsider: you're dangerous looking. You'll do."

"I'll do?" Lucina frowned, not sensing anyone else in the room with them.

"You want answers? Well, so do I," the man sighed, "so does everyone else in this city. A man goes crazy in the markets, everyone knows he's a Forsworn agent, and the guards do nothing but clean up the mess." 

"Someone must be paying them off," Arya suggested. 

"Look, you can go around and investigate, dig up the answers I couldn't," the man shook his head slowly. 

"And why would we do that?" Arya cut Lucina off before she could even speak. "I don't even know who you are."

"Elthrys," the man bowed his head. "I've lived here all my life, even worked in the mines for a while. My father was killed by the Forsworn in a manner very similar to what Margret would have suffered, and nobody did anything. I investigated, myself, for a while, and then...my wife...my unborn child...I had to stop, to focus on them, instead."

Lucina's heart lurched.

Elthrys sighed. "Gods, it's like my father's ghost is trailing me everywhere, asking 'why"?" 

"Where should we begin?" Lucina stepped forward, ignoring Arya's sigh of disapproval. 

This man had a family, and this corruption couldn't be suffered to continue any longer! 

Elthrys smiled warmly. "Thank you, strangers...What's your name?" 

"Lucina." 

"Well, Lucina, you would be doing the entire city a favor by helping us here. I'll pay you for any information you can find on Weylin and Margret," Elthrys pushed off the pillar and crossed his arms. "Visitors to the city usually stay at the Silver-Blood Inn, and Weylin worked on the docks, casting silver. He lived in the Warrens, with the rest of the Reachmen workers." 

"I have to report to the Jarl and work out more arrangements for our men," Arya warned. "I'll swing by afterwards to see how you're faring, okay?"

Lucina nodded, patting Falchion's hilt. "I'll be careful." 

Arya gave Elthrys one last look, meaningfully running her hands over her hammer's great haft as she turned her back on him. "Do anything to hurt the girl, and I'll turn your skull into mush." 

"I-I have no intention of harming her!" The man spluttered, horrified. "I'm an old miner, not a warrior like you two!" 

Arya chuckled and tromped away, Lucina quickly bidding farewell to Elthrys before dashing up the stairs after her Stormcloak friend. The duo stepped out into the city, Arya clasping Lucina's shoulder with a strong hand. 

"Silver-Blood Inn is just to the left of the main doors as you're entering the city, but the place I'm most concerned about is the Warrens," Arya said grimly. "The place is a haven for disease, and I'm not sure how friendly the residents are going to be. If you go down there, just be careful, and see if this gold won't get you some information."

Arya stuffed a coin purse into Lucina's hands, and before she could protest, the Stormcloak shook her head. "You'll need it more than I will, if you're dealing with the Warrens and the Silver-Bloods. Keep a close eye on it; never know when some thief might try his luck." 

"T-thank you, milady," Lucina nodded before tying the satchel to her belt. "I'll be careful, I swear it." 

"If someone hires a thug to harass you, beat them into the ground and get out of there before the guards get ahold of you. Do not draw steel unless you absolutely have no choice," Arya advised, releasing Lucina. "Good luck, and I thought I asked you to not call me 'milady'." 

"You too, Arya," Lucina flushed, embarrassed. 

The Stormcloak laughed and walked away, her bear's hide swaying with each step she took. Lucina smiled and headed the opposite direction, deciding to begin her investigation in the Silver-Blood Inn, first. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In regards to the Dragonborn's armor being silver, aside from the color mod I spoke of previously, since it belonged to the Last Dwemer (who was added as a boss in Blackreach by the Deadly Bosses of Skyrim mod, I believe) I wanted it to be singular and unique along with the Dwemer Animunculi that the Last Dwemer built and controls. I merely took some creative liberties regarding the Last Dwemer and made him more than just a boss fight. So, yeah, the blood of the Last Dwemer has been added to Caesar's dragon blood, which is why golden Dwemer machines won't attack him and actually serve him, alongside the silver ones.   
> Hopefully this clears some stuff up.  
> Also, I always found it odd that the Word Walls would only give one Shout word when they're absolutely covered in Dragon Tongue. Granted, I understand it as a video game mechanic, but it's not very practical once you remove the video game aspect, so the Word Walls in this Skyrim contain the full Shouts alongside descriptions of each Shout in the Dragon tongue and stories of the Tongues.


	5. Blood on Stone

"So, you sniffed me out," Nepos the Nose mused, his beak-like nose drawing Lucina's eyes immediately. 

"That thug you sent after me hardly made it difficult," Lucina replied, keeping one hand on her divine blade as the three staff bustling around her paused in their chores to glare. 

A guard had threatened her after she'd learned from Margret the Imperial spy that Thonar Silver-Blood was a contender for the corruption, but she'd pushed past the man and made her way to the Silver-Blood Treasury, where she'd confronted Thonar. He'd admitted that he'd sent the guard to threaten her, but nothing else until two Forsworn agents disguised as his elderly servants murdered his wife. 

Lucina had cut the agents down and Thanor, in his grief, admitted that the Forsworn were his puppets, curtesy of him having their King, Madanach, locked up in Cidhna Mine. Satisfied, Lucina had gone to the Warrens, paid for the key to Weylin's room and found a note addressed to the deceased agent, penned in a scrawling script and signed 'N'. She'd left to ask Elthrys about this when a man in leather armor and a mohawk had confronted her, threatening her. 

The man then swung a bare fist at her, clearly intending to beat her into submission, but Lucina's battle-hardened body had proven to be superior in their contest of strength. He'd told her of Nepos, where he lived, and then slunk into the Warrens, nursing several new bruises and perhaps a few broken ribs.

"Yes, you've found me," Nepos sighed, his bald head shimmering in the firelight. "I've been sending the young to die for the Forsworn for years now, all at my king's behest. I do not know where my king is, but when we receive his letters, we know to act." 

Lucina scowled. "You've been murdering innocent people." 

"Hardly innocent, my dear," Nepos chuckled. "You know what the Nords have done to us Reachmen, how they've brutalized us. We have taken revenge, and we will continue to do so." 

"You will not get away with this," Lucina promised, turning her back on the man and starting towards the door. 

Not surprisingly, Nepos' servants blocked the way, daggers in hand and magical fire burning within their palms. 

"My dear, did you really think I'm going to let you walk away?" Nepos closed his book and rose, his hand going for the knife at his own belt. 

Lucina drew Falchion in a single, practiced motion, steel whispering against leather, and she lunged at the trio standing in her way. The Forsworn stumbled, clearly not expecting her to attack them. Sharpened steel slashed through their clothes and flesh with ease, spilling blood and organs.

"No!" Nepos shouted, and Lucina's instincts drove her to the ground as a fireball rocketed over where her head had just been. 

She spun, pivoting on her heels, and lunged at Nepos as he readied another spell. Falchion pierced his breast, punching into his body and piercing his heart. Nepos choked and crumpled, skidding backwards from the force of the blow before falling still upon the stone floor. 

Lucina pulled Falchion free with a sigh, wiping the blade clean on the man's fine clothes before sheathing it. 

"That should be everything Elthrys asked for," she murmured, gazing at the bodies sprawling about the stone house. "I'll report to him, first, and then track down Arya. If the guards are corrupt, then...it wouldn't be a good idea to involve them yet." 

Her mind made up, Lucina ducked out of Nepos' home and made her way across the stone walkways of the city, winding her way down to the Temple of Talos. She pushed open the great doors and made her way down, halting as the sight awaiting her turned her blood to ice. 

A trio of blue-clad guards were waiting for her at the foot of the shrine, Elthrys' bloody form sprawled behind them. 

"We warned you not to snoop around, but you just had to keep going. Now we have to pin all these recent murders on you, silence witnesses, work, work, work," one guard sighed, hands tugging weapons free. 

"You corrupt dastards!" Lucina's blood roared in her ears as she reached for Falchion. "He had a wife and an unborn child!" 

A snort. "Yeah, draw steel against the city guard! Prove yourself a Forsworn whore!" 

Lucina fought down her rage, fought down the overpowering urge to cut the guardsmen down right then and there. They were right: if she attacked them, then the false charges would give way to real ones. 

She lowered her hands. 

"Smart girl," the first guard sneered as the trio stomped forward. "You'll never see the sun again. No one escapes Cidhna Mine, you hear me? No one." 

An axe cut through the belt holding Falchion to her waist, and Lucina fought down the urge to scream and attack as the divine weapon, her only keepsake of her original father, was snatched up by another guard. 

"It won't work for you," she warned as the man eyed the beautiful blade. "Only one of Exalted blood can wield Falchion." 

The man snorted, holstering his axe and freeing the sacred sword from its scabbard. "Noble blood don't mean shit, woman. Steel is steel." 

Falchion was dim and dead in his hands, and as the man attempted a swing, the blade moved sluggishly. 

"Even if Exalted blood is needed, I bet some fool would pay a pretty septim for such a blade," the third guard grunted, roughly seizing Lucina's arms. "Now, come along." 

Lucina debated fighting back, buying time for Arya to find her, but she couldn't, now without actually breaking the laws of this accursed city. 

The corrupt guards dragged her off to her fate. 

Caesar hated Markarth: hated the Silver-Bloods that had the guards in their pocket; hated the gods-damned Forsworn; hated the fact that bloody Molag Bal had a shrine in this hellhole and there were freaking cannibals selling meat in the markets. 

But, Lucina was here, and he had to find her before something happened. That was his original thought, anyway, but clearly she'd already been found by trouble. If the people attempting to wash out the blood on the market stones were telling the truth, Lucina had killed a Forsworn agent before he could murder a Nord woman. 

And speaking of the gods-damned Forsworn: Caesar had passed by some of their Redoubts and found them all empty, which could only mean one thing. They were gathering for an assault on the city, finally taking advantage of the tentative hold the Stormcloaks had on the Reach. 

With the addition of two camps of exhausted and wounded soldiers suddenly showing up, the guard detail was thrown into chaos, and the Stormcloaks were already poorly disciplined and lax in security protocols to begin with. Their cause was noble, perhaps, but they weren't professional soldiers. Well, the ones who weren't deserters from the Legion, anyway. 

It was a perfect opportunity to assault the city proper and get revenge on the Stormcloaks at the same time. There was no way those savages would pass up this opportunity. 

"Dragonborn," a Stormcloak guard approached him, and Caesar's heart skipped a beat. 

Lucina's sword was lazily hanging from the man's sword belt, alongside his axe. 

"You're brave to show your face here," the guard growled, one of the braver ones who dared to challenge him. "What with you being an Imperial sympathizer." 

"Where is the girl?" He growled, reaching down and yanking the sword off of its fragile bindings, scabbard and all. 

The guard started, yelping. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Caesar glared down at the soldier. "The girl you stole this from. Where is she?" 

He didn't have time for this: the Forsworn could show up any damn moment! Granted, the evacuation protocols he'd worked on with Jarl Igmund, as well as the Dwemer Animunculi in the ruins of Nchuand-Zel, would keep the civilians safe, but the Stormcloaks would have their hands full. 

The Stormcloak guard swallowed nervously. "The girl was arrested for murder and conspiring with the Forsworn. She was hauled off to Cidhna Mine several hours ago." 

"Of course you fools would frame her," Caesar spat. "Let me guess: Thonar Silver-Blood's orders?" 

The man nodded. 

"Pathetic," he started to slip Lucina's sword into his belt, then remembered that Jarl Igmund was no longer in charge of this damn city. 

Thongvar Silver-Blood was. He couldn't just waltz into Cidhna Mine and demand Lucina's release, especially if these filth were as corrupt as he thought they were. Granted: the Imperial guards had hardly been any better. 

So, he had to get himself thrown into Cidhna Mine, then conjure up a shade or two to get his and Lucina's equipment back. Well, the Mine part would prove easier done than said. 

"You arrogant bastard," the guard reached for his weapon, and Caesar chuckled softly. 

"You don't want to do that, friend," he warned. 

The guard unsheathed his axe. "You sure? What are you going to do? Attack me? A city guard?" 

Caesar drew on the Thu'um:  _"F_ _us Ro!"_

Force. Balance. 

The weakened Shout slammed into the guard, sending him skidding back several feet. The man recovered quickly, his shocked gasps the only sound he made as he stared dumbly at the Dragonborn. 

"The Dragonborn just Shouted at a guard!" A woman in the markets cried. 

As he'd hoped, more guards swarmed towards him, surrounding him with weapons. 

"Stop right there!"

"Surrender your weapons!" 

Caesar dropped his large collection of blades to the ground and raised his hands, glad that his helmet obscured his cold smile. "I submit." 

Lucina huddled in the cold, dusty mines, the ragged tunic she'd been given doing a terrible job of retaining her body heat. Rock dust had already wreaked havoc on her lungs, making her double over coughing for the first hour she'd been in the mines. About half a dozen other prisoners toiled in the mines, their pickaxes ringing against stone as they tore silver from whatever veins they could find. At least, when they weren't attempting to have their way with the only woman present in the mine with them, calling her a 'Stormcloak-loving Nord bitch'.  

The men, weakened considerably by unforgiving labor and poor diets, had attempted to take her all at once, but Lucina hadn't suffered the same way they had. She was far stronger than them, and she'd driven their initial attempts off with ease. Turns out a pickaxe easily breaking a man's arm was enough to cow them. 

For now, she huddled in her own corner of the mines, clutching her pickaxe and keeping herself ready to fight should the prisoners attempt to take her again. 

And as if on cue, the sound of crunching stone alerted her to more approaching prisoners, and she lifted her gaze to see four of the Forsworn entering her corner of the mines. One man, that thief whose arm she'd nearly broken, swung his pickaxe at the earth a short way before her, having learned the hard way not to mess with her, and the methodic rings of steel on stone were making her ears ache. 

He left her alone, but the others didn't. 

"Grisvar the Unlucky, indeed," one Forsworn sneered as they passed the thief. "Damn near lost your arm to some blue bitch." 

The thief growled but ignored his antagonists, clinking away with uneven swings. 

Lucina pushed herself to her feet, wincing as sharp stone cut through the flimsy footwraps and dug into her legs. "I thought I warned you to stay back." 

One man's hand glowed with fire as he pulled a small blade-a shiv, they called them- from the folds of his tunic, dust and dirt caking his face. "You aren't working, and if you're not working, you're holding us all back. You need a reminder of what you gotta be doing, here." 

"Yeah: nobody wants to lose their rations just because you can't be bothered to pull your weight." 

They didn't care about the quota: they just sat around the mines, occasionally mining so the guards wouldn't march down and force them to do it. Something had changed recently, or so Grisvar had claimed as he worked. 

The Forsworn were getting ready, but for what, nobody outside the Forsworn's little group knew. 

Grisvar kept swinging, chipping away at the wall, sending little showers of stone falling to the floor. 

_Chink. Chink._

Lucina readied her pickaxe, feeling the weight of the makeshift weapon in her hands as she crouched. 

_Chink. Chink._

The Forsworn tensed, bloody murder etching across their faces.

_Clunk._

Metal struck metal, and the Forsworn froze as part of the wall Grisvar was hacking at fell away in a miniature landslide, spewing dust everywhere. 

"What the hells?" Grisvar gagged and coughed, pushing more of the stone out of whatever he'd hit. "It's silver." 

"Veins don't sound like that," a Forsworn growled. 

"No, it's actual silver. Actual metal. Looks Dwarven," Grisvar explained. 

Lucina frowned. 

"Dwarven stuff ain't silver," one of the Forsworn murmured. "It's brass." 

Another clang echoed through the mines: the sound of the metal door that was the only way in or out of the jail. More footsteps sounded off, and Lucina wondered if this was going to end poorly or well. 

Naga, please let this new arrival be an ally!

"Take her, she can't hold off all of us," one Forsworn barked, and the four of them started forward.

Grisvar swung again, dislodging more stone, and a metallic clang resonated through the mine, followed by the rattling, hissing noise of steam. The wall burst apart in a cascade of dust and stone, and Lucina stared, dumbfounded, as a silver Dwarven Sphere rose from the rubble. 

The footsteps of the new arrival drew closer, and the shouting Forsworn scrambled back right into a broad, muscular body emerging from the tunnel. 

"Get out of the way, fool!" 

 _"Fus Ro Dah!"_ The tunnels trembled with the pure fury of the Shout, the Forsworn being blown off of their feet and slammed into the walls.

Bones cracked, and stone showered from the tunnels, the Forsworn crumpling to the floor in broken heaps. The Sphere rattled forward, taking up position by its master and extending its blade arm. 

"At ease," the towering, fair skinned warrior with short jet-black hair and a rugged face ordered, his muscular frame covered with scars and strange looking dark patches that looked eerily similar to scales. 

That voice! And, of course, that Shout! 

"Caesar?" Lucina gaped, those steely grey eyes focusing upon her.  

He was surprisingly handsome, free of facial hair but carrying himself with the grim certainty of a veteran warrior. 

"Correct," he nodded, his gaze turning to the Sphere at his side. "To think that the Sphere I buried here would actually end up being useful. And here I'd thought I was being overly paranoid. No matter: it provided an excellent distraction." 

Lucina lowered her pickaxe, aware of the alarmed shouting coming from the entrance of the mines. "What's going on? Why are you here?" 

"To get you out of here before the Forsworn torch the city," Caesar replied, turning his back on her and striding the way he'd come. 

Lucina scurried after him, taking note of how Grisvar cowered in the corner before dismissing him as a concern. It hurt to breathe, but Lucina pushed through the pain. 

"How do we get out of here?" She asked, forcing air into her aching lungs. 

The rattling Sphere drove knives through her skull, but she got the feeling the machine would be their saving grace, seeing as how both of them were unarmed and unarmored. 

Caesar led the two of them through the mines, back to the main area, and Lucina immediately spotted the guards attempting to get the gates open. There was another door, leading further into the mine that the orc always guarded. 

"What the hells?" The orc blanched, the skull paint across his face seeming to be a mockery of the actual death that was approaching him. "What did you do to my kinsmen?" 

Caesar nodded to the Sphere. "Do it." 

The orc reached for his pickaxes, but the Sphere was faster. It raised its crossbow arm and fired, the snap of the discharge making Lucina jump even more than the sound of the bolt smacking into flesh and bone. 

The orc crumpled, steam hissing as the red-hot bolt burned into his throat. Caesar knelt and ripped a cord hanging from the orc's throat, inserting the key it held into the door and unlocking it. 

"Stop them! Now!" The warden was screaming, heaving at the main doors. 

"What did you do?" Lucina asked as she followed Caesar into another narrow tunnel. 

"Broke the mechanisms opening the door," he replied, guiding Lucina and the Sphere into a small room built into the mines. 

An older man with long, greying hair was sitting at a desk, his ragged robes the same as all the others as he wrote in an open book. 

"So, Dragonborn, this is how it ends: with you killing me on the eve of the Forsworn's greatest triumph," the man grunted, not even looking up at them. 

Caesar didn't even respond, just tilted his head to his Sphere. The machine rattled forward and stabbed Madanach in the neck. Blood flashed, a pained groan escaping the imprisoned madman, and the King in Rags slumped onto his desk, dead before he even went still. 

"So long as the civilians follow Jarl Igmund's evacuation plan, they'll be able to get into the ruins of Nchuand-Zel to safety," Caesar took another key off the dead king before retracing his steps yet again, this time to another cell door leading into a tunnel. "This should get us out on the second level, above the smelters." 

He unlocked the cell and strode into the tunnel, and Lucina jolted as the Sphere's cold metal arms nudged her forward. She glanced at the machine, found its head nodding towards the tunnel. It was going to follow her, to bring up the rear. 

Lucina threw the pickaxe she had been clutching to the ground and hurried after Caesar, the Sphere rattling in her wake as it followed. Another golden door awaited, fitted into excavated stone, and Caesar pushed it open. 

A heavy, musty scent filtered through Lucina's nostrils, drawing a cough from her throat. Her lungs ached, burned, the grit from the dust irritating her lungs even more. 

"Your lungs will clear in time, once we get out of here," Caesar placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder as she doubled over, hacking and heaving, clutching at her stomach as knives raked through her insides. 

He guided her forward, into the stone ruins of an underground settlement carved into the mountains. Strange chairs of golden metal lay upon the stone floor, and cobwebs began to appear all over the walls. The further they advanced through the tunnels, the thicker the webs that covered the walls, and Caesar swore as they crossed into a hallway completely covered with the sticky, foul-smelling substance. 

"Frostbite spiders," he grunted. "I hate these damn things." 

Lucina's throat constricted, and she cursed the involuntary instinct. Shame warmed her breast, her cheeks, and Lucina tried to force the fear down as Caesar rounded a corner. 

 _"_ _Yol_ _Toor Shul!"_ The air filled with stagnating heat, the rushing of flames lighting up the corridor that Caesar had started down. 

Lucina hesitated, the heavy stench of burning flesh reaching her nostrils as flames crackled from the corridor, sending erratic shadows dancing across the walls. 

"Gods damn it, that startled me," Caesar grunted. "It's alright, Lucina! Just one of the damn spiders." 

Lucina swallowed her fear, mustering her courage, and strode into a web-wreathed hallway shrouded by flames that were devouring the white silks. A massive spider carcass lay heaped on the ground, scarlet flames devouring it and rapidly reducing the creature to ashes. 

"N-Naga, those spiders are huge!" She whimpered, the fear that always filled her around bugs now revving into overdrive. 

Caesar grunted. "These things are the reason so many Nords hate spiders, no matter the size of the damn arachnids." 

He ushered her through the flaming silk, heated strands clinging to Lucina's feet and tugging at her rags until they were freed of the burning mess. The cavern they entered was still filled with webbing, but significantly less, but Caesar remained on edge. 

The rustling of many legs made Lucina's fine hairs stand on end, and her head whipped towards the side of the cave, where another gargantuan spider was rustling towards the duo. The hairy legs and body made her stomach churn, but the eight gleaming orbs of its eyes, shining with cold intelligence as the beast scuttled closer, made Lucina's heart stop cold in her chest. 

 _"Fus Ro Dah!"_ Another wall of pure Force bowled over the creature, slamming it into the cave wall with a sickening crack. 

The spider squealed in pain and attempted to rise, but its shattered legs and body couldn't respond to its desperation. 

Caesar tugged Lucina after him, to the open doorway resting on the other side of the cavern. The Sphere's blade extended with a loud clang, and the spider's squealing silenced as Caesar and Lucina entered a massive chamber comprised of Dwarven stonework. Hissing and rattling reached her ears, and she looked over at the golden Dwarven Sphere rising from where it had been resting. 

It was an exact copy of the silver ones Caesar commanded, only colored golden bronze. Caesar pulled Lucina behind him as the machine rattled forward, extending its blade. The Sphere paused, scanning Caesar with its 'face' until it abruptly withdrew the blade back into the contraption on its arm. 

"Why isn't it attacking us?" Lucina whispered, but the machine ignored her. 

Loud rattling heralded the arrival of Caesar's silver Sphere, and the machine wheeled itself over to its gold brother's side before pausing and gazing upon its master. 

"Story for another time," Caesar answered. "Both of you: with me." 

The 'heads' bobbed in recognition, only to pivot as the faint lowing of a war horn echoed through the ruins. Lucina instinctively reached for Falchion, only to meet empty space. She cursed herself silently. 

"The Forsworn are here," Caesar scowled. "We'll have to move fast if we're to escape the city."

"What?" Lucina spun to her companion. "You mean to flee?! While the entire city's under attack?! I'm not leaving these people to die!" 

Caesar gave her a weary glance. "Do you not remember me mentioning an evacuation plan, Lucina? Those horns are the perimeter alarms, alerting everyone in Markarth to a hostile force attempting to breach the walls. Letting the citizens of Markarth know to flee through Understone Keep to get to the ruins of Nchuand-Zel. They can barricade themselves inside the Dwemer city, and the automated defenses will protect them." 

"Automated defenses?" Lucina hesitated. "Do you mean like the Spheres?"

Caesar nodded. "Spheres, Centurions, Ballistae, and more. Trust me: once the people get into Nchuand-Zel, nothing will be getting to them. Once the Stormcloaks and the Animunculi I'll loose onto the city crush what's left of the Forsworn, the civilians can emerge and work on repairing the damage done."

"You've thought this through," Lucina swallowed the guilt that rose in her throat. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have doubted you." 

A strong hand gently clasped her shoulder, and she glanced up to meet the towering Nord's warm smile.

"You had every right to, and I do not blame you." 

She returned the smile and found her fear fading. "Where will we go?" 

In answer, abyssal power formed in both of his hands as he released her and stepped back. Those great voids opened up once more behind him, swirling and whooshing as humanoid forms materialized within them. 

Two people knelt at Caesar's feet, clad in dark leather armor and wearing cowls with masks that obscured their faces. "What is your command?" 

"Go to Cidhna Mine to retrieve my confiscated gear, as well as the equipment belonging to my companion, here," Caesar ordered, and both summons saluted with a fist over their hearts. 

"Your will is our command!" Both vanished in a faint burst of magic, faint ripples in the air the only indication of movement as the summons made their way towards the staircase leading down to a lower level. 

"Those shades will grab our equipment and meet us at Arknthamgz, a short run from the city," Caesar explained. 

"What is at this Ark place?" Lucina didn't even try to pronounce the strange name, and Caesar grinned. 

"Arknthamgz: it's an old Dwemer city, one of the most well-preserved places I've ever found. We can slip by the Forsworn and wait there for my shades to bring us our equipment," the Dragonborn explained. "Between the evacuation plan and the city's defenders, the people of Markarth will be safe, and the battle will be short."

"Why not stand and fight?" Lucina asked as the two made their way down the stairs, pausing to giggle as the Spheres awkwardly clanked down after them. 

Caesar grinned at her. "I know: they can be quite entertaining, eh? But, those ridges on their locomotion systems allow them to navigate harsh terrain and stairs with some amount of ease." 

He walked away, heading towards the open gateway leading through another cavern and a great pair of golden doors. "As for why I'm not standing and fighting? As long as those bastard Silver-Bloods are in control of the city, they'll do everything they can to turn you and I into Forsworn conspirators. We need to get away from Markarth and let everything settle down." 

Lucina trailed after him, nodding grimly. "That makes sense. I dislike hiding...and Arya will be worried sick." 

"Arya Broken-Haft?" Caesar mused. "Huh, I thought I recognized her back in Whiterun, but my attention was more focused on you." 

Heat rose to Lucina's cheeks. "M-me? Whatever for?" 

"You're not of this world, and you carry residual draconic influence in your blood," Caesar replied. "That Brand in your eye, as well...you're clearly of royal blood, and I have no desire to drag some other kingdom into this war because you got hurt fighting for the Stormcloaks." 

The Dragonborn paused by the doors, resting an ear against the metal. He scowled as the Spheres rattled closer, hissing and clanking up a storm, then returned his attention to the other side. 

"I can hear the sounds of battle in the distance," he warned. "The Forsworn are in the city." 

Lucina steeled her nerves and fell back into the warrior's calm center that she'd cultivated after years of enduring the horrors of her future apocalypse. "I'm ready." 

Caesar glanced back at her, his harsh gaze softening. "You're quite brave and noble, Lucina, but do not leave my side once we get out." 

He feared she would charge off to fight the Forsworn?

"I won't," she vowed.

Caesar nodded and pushed the doors open, and hell spread out before them. The rattling and hissing of the Spheres almost faded into the background as the air filled with the heavy thrum of bowstrings, the clash of weaponry, and the shouting of the combatants. 

Lucina darted forward to get her bearings and the lay of the battlefield, finding herself on the city's second level, overlooking the river and Cidhna Mine. The wooden docks in front of the smelters were clustered with a heaving debacle of blue-clad Stormcloaks and hide-wearing Forsworn swinging stone axes or wooden swords with razor sharp animal teeth implanted upon the blades. 

Caesar appeared at her side, placing a hand upon her shoulder as his eyes coolly surveyed the battlefield that Markarth had become. "The fighting will be the worst around the gates, but I can Shout us a path through. I'll try to only hit the Forsworn, but if any Stormcloaks try to block us, I'll have to knock them out of our way." 

"Very well," Lucina nodded, admitting that they might have no choice.

It opened a pit in her stomach, running away like this, but Caesar was right. 

"Heads up!" Caesar barked, and Lucina spun just in time to see two Forsworn men, both wearing animal skin helmets with antlers over their heads, charging towards them, screaming bloody murder. 

The two Spheres rolled out of the tunnels, causing both men to skid to a halt, before raising their crossbows and putting bolts through their skulls. The Forsworn crumpled to the ground with heavy thuds, and Caesar scooped up their teeth blades and tossed one to Lucina. 

She caught the weapon, the hide-wrapped grip rubbing against her palm as she swished it about to test the balance, which was horrible. 

"These makeshift blades are crap, but it's better than running around without weapons," Caesar scowled. "Come." 

He strode over the bridge towards Understone Keep, Lucina quickly spurring herself into following him even though every instinct of hers screamed to jump into the battle she could hear unfolding all around her. 

Stormcloaks and Forsworn were clashing all over the city, blades crashing and carving into flesh on all the levels as arrows hissed about every which direction. Shouts and screams filled the air, as did explosions and the whooshing of magic, and Lucina could see dozens of bodies already bleeding upon the stones, scarlet washing into the small canal going by the trashed market. 

Caesar made his way towards the mass of heaving combatants clumped together before the city's main gates, which had been blasted open with powerful magic, his blade whipping out and tearing into any Forsworn who dared come near him. Lucina trailed the Dragonborn, ducking swinging blades and axes and lashing out at her attackers without leaving herself open to reprisal. 

A multitude of corpses awaited on the ground before her, and Lucina took the opportunity to discard her Forsworn blade in favor of a finely balanced steel sword. Her head was on constant swivel as she ducked through the city's war zone, the smell of blood and death filling her nostrils. 

"Die, savages!" A familiar voice drew her attention to the upper levels of the city, where Arya shoved a pair of Forsworn women over the edge of the mountainside with her hammer. 

Both bodies crunched to the ground behind Lucina, the disgusting noises making her flinch as her stomach threatened to flip.

"Arya!" She called up to her friend, who immediately honed in on her. 

"Lucina?! Thank Talos you got out safely!" Arya paused as a Forsworn swung at her, ducking the blow before caving the warrior's skull and kicking the corpse away. "Get out of there, now! Go to Understone Keep! Go the Nchuand-Zel!" 

"Keep moving, fool!" Caesar's powerful hands grabbed Lucina again and dragged her forward, making her stumble over her own feet. 

"Hey!" She protested, only for her breath to be ripped away from her at the sight awaiting her in the markets. 

A metal giant was stomping through the debacle, swinging arms fixed with a massive hammer and axe at the Forsworn as gouts of steam spewed from its titanic body. Arrows pinged harmlessly off of its silver armor, the thing's emotionless face gazing upon a group of Forsworn archers firing through the gates. 

"Centurion," Caesar grunted at her side, raising his now-freed hand and sending a wave of crackling lightning into a dozen Forsworn who'd been attempting to break into the Silver-Blood Inn. "It'll clear the way for us." 

"How?" Lucina stared at the giant, feeling the heat radiating from its body as the duo drew closer and closer to it. 

The two Spheres flanked them, firing into the mob and hacking at everything that got too close, and Lucina's senses screamed a warning as the giant tensed. Vents hissed on its shoulders, and the Centurion spewed a scalding torrent of steam at the Forsworn archers. Men and women scrambled away from the machine, its targets screaming as they were baked alive. 

"Hold on tight!" Caesar wrapped Lucina in his powerful arms and partially lifted her off the ground, pinning her own arms to her side. .

Power built up inside of him, like a rising wind, and Lucina struggled to grip his wrists with her own hands as he inhaled. 

 _"_ _Wul_ _d_ _Nah K_ _est!"_ They became wind, shooting through the city gates at blistering speeds that made the world blur and bend around them. 

As they slowed, Lucina's vision spinning and her stomach groaning in protest, she became dimly aware of the dozens of people fighting outside the gates. The world snapped back into focus, and Caesar released her to Shout at the startled gaggle of Forsworn who'd just been attempting to charge the gates. 

 _"_ _Zun_ _Haal_ _Viik_ _!"_ A shockwave tore into the Forsworn, ripping their weapons from their hands and throwing them about. 

The warriors looked at their empty hands in shock even as Stormcloak soldiers pounced on them, beating and hacking the Forsworn into bloody heaps. 

Lucina forced air down her lungs and readied her blade as more Forsworn swarmed towards her and Caesar, roaring with rage. A loud mechanical noise made her jump, and a massive spear shot out of nowhere, impaling several men at once with sickening crunches. Her head snapped over to the gates, where rounded machines on four spider-like legs were scuttling forward, the limbs of a great crossbow protruding from their sphere-like sides and the heads of the harpoons sticking out of a groove halving their frames. 

Another loud snapping noise, and a harpoon shot out of one of the machines as another projectile slid down the groove to take its place. The harpoon speared one of the larger Forsworn warriors and pinned him to the stable walls, the man howling in agony as he feebly clawed at the massive bolt protruding from his chest. 

"Lucina!" Caesar shouted, and she cursed herself for not paying attention. 

The Dragonborn was several feet away from her, ducking under another Forsworn's axe before smacking the weapon aside with practiced precision and running the bare-chested man through. Caesar kicked the corpse aside and sent another wave of lightning into the reinforcements surging up from the lower paths. 

The Forsworn crumpled, screaming, as electricity arced into their bodies, searing their flesh and making them writhe and spasm upon the ground. Lucina dashed forward, pursuing Caesar as he jumped over the stone battlements and dropped out of her sight. 

She leaped over the low wall after him, her legs jarring and screaming in protest as she hit the hard ground running. More Forsworn were surging across the bridge towards them, brandishing their primitive weapons, but Caesar didn't even break stride.

 _"Fus Ro Dah!"_ Another pulsating wall of Force plowed into the onrushing assailants, flattening the poor dastards and throwing several into the river. 

Lucina forced her already screaming legs even harder, pushing her weary body to its limits as she sprinted after the Dragonborn. Her feet ached as she streaked over the stone bridge, away from the besieged city. Away from Arya. 

Another Shout shook the air, the rumbling noise of pure Force plowing over more bodies and ground alike. Lucina reached the crest of the hill she'd come to Markarth on and nearly plowed into Caesar from where he stood at the mouth of an earthen path leading south. 

"Whoa there," his strong arms gently caught her, his steel-grey eyes narrowed with concern as he looked over the woman gulping down air. "You alright?" 

Her lungs and muscles burned, her head swam from lack of oxygen and overexerting herself, and Lucina was certain that she would be vomiting if she had anything in her stomach to empty out. 

"I'm...fine," she rasped, although she could feel her body getting ready to shut itself down. 

Caesar glanced down the hill, which had been torn up by his Shout, then lifted Lucina into his arms. She didn't complain, dangling limply in his grasp as he hurried down the earthen path leading southwards. 

"I'll stop to heal you once I'm sure we're not being followed by the Forsworn," Caesar assured her as he started moving. "I'm not that great with Restoration magic, but I know enough to get you back on your feet." 

Lucina nodded, the movement splicing her with nausea and making the world spin. She clenched her eyelids shut, not wanting to look upon the blood-covered land she'd been drawn into. 

"It's almost nighttime," Caesar commented as his long strides made her sway in his grasp. "We'll be able to lose the Forsworn near Dushnikh Yal." 

The air was drawing colder, she noted as the adrenaline that had been pumping through her body began to fade, leaving her exposed to the exhaustion that pounded her muscles and vulnerable to the elements. A sweet scent mingled with the woodsy smell of the pine trees, and Lucina's stomach growled. She'd barely eaten anything today.

Lucina dimly heard the rushing of a waterfall over the soft chirping of birdsong and the dying sounds of distant warfare, and she wondered where the two Spheres had gone off to. 

Caesar kept walking, his strides even and unrelenting as Lucina felt the world tilt.

"Little steep, here, but the orcs won't bother us," he murmured, and faint shouting from behind made him increase his pace. "Damn, the Forsworn are after us." 

"Blood-kin!" A rough, feminine voice called out from somewhere ahead. "Is that you, Caesar?" 

"Aye! Forsworn behind us! Be ready!" Caesar shouted back, his gait increasing to a light jog that made Lucina's body bounce a bit in his grasp. 

By Naga, this was embarrassing! She'd endured so much worse in her timeline, yet she couldn't even handle being thrown into a mine for a few hours!

"Come in! We'll fight by your side!" The female voice urged.

"The Forsworn won't attack you if I'm not in the stronghold!" Caesar grunted. "I'll not drag you into Markarth's problems!" 

"Blood-kin!" The woman protested, but her voice was already growing distant.

Lucina dared to open her eyes as her spinning head rescinded somewhat and found herself staring up at a mountainous pass. The dying sun was painting the skies red, an appropriate color given the blood that was already being spilled upon the earth. She could see some sort of Dwarven structure emerging from the mountainside, taking a moment to marvel at the beautiful stonework. 

And then the earth began to heave and quake violently, making Caesar stumble as he fought to keep his footing. 

"What the hells?" He cursed as the quaking finally died down after several moments. "That came from Arknthamgz!" 

More shouting, this time from the pass to their left, and Caesar swore again as hide-dressed Forsworn emerged. 

 _"_ _Yol_ _Toor Shul!"_ Brilliant dragonfire erupted from his open maw, unfathomable heat baking the air as waves of flame washed over the screaming Forsworn. 

The world was beginning to soften, darkness creeping in at the edges of her vision, and Lucina wondered why everything was growing quieter. 

She passed into the embrace of the void. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During Lucina's support conversations with her sibling (depending on who Chrom marries), both of the time-traveling children are petrified and panicking as a large, flying insect terrorizes their tent until Chrom comes to save the day. So, going off of that, I have come to the conclusion that Lucina has a phobia of bugs, at least until she draws Falchion to threaten the offending insect, which would of course be intensified by Skyrim's massive Frostbite Spiders. And, seriously, who wouldn't be terrified of a giant fucking hairy spider the size of a dog or horse?   
> The sounds those things make when they move...(shudder)


	6. Under the Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of straying from canon in this chapter, just warning you now.

Arknthamgz had been reduced to ruins. Caesar crouched within the rubble-filled ruins of the entrance hall, standing over Lucina to shield her from debris tumbling down from the ceiling. 

"Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to use Fire Breath right on top of her," he mused, noting the dirt and soot that caked her fair skin.

She looked peaceful, sleeping there, freed from all the worries that plagued her. Caesar ran a critical eye over the woman's bared arms, studying the firm muscles that turned the limbs into steel cords. Her midriff, partially bared by the shabby hempen sackcloth tunic, revealed her toned stomach muscles as well as the many scars that marked the woman as a warrior. 

The Dwemer ruins trembled again, and Caesar winced as he heard stone crashing off in the distance. What the hells had happened here? 

The city used to be beautiful, perfectly preserved and untouched by outsiders thanks to the unusual ferocity with which the automatons defended the halls. Even the Falmer had been unable to break through, but no doubt the creatures would be swarming through the wreckage. 

 Well, it had been untouched until Caesar had snuck his way past everything in his way, drawing upon his magics to warp the world around him and confuse the Animunculi. It had been dodgy, but he'd done well in navigating the maze of tunnels and corridors until he'd accidentally tripped a Centurion's perimeter alarm. 

Dozens of the automatons had swarmed towards his position, forcing him to abandon any hope for further exploration. And now he was back, standing amongst little more than ruins. 

His magic flared, alerting him to the presence of his shades, and Caesar watched as the two summons slunk their way through the rubble before dropping to a knee. Both were carrying enchanted bags, no doubt filled to the brim with his and Lucina's gear. 

"Lord Dragonborn, we have completed our mission," the first intoned, offering its bag. "Here is your equipment." 

Caesar accepted the heavy dragonskin sack, feeling the magic pulsing under his fingers as he opened the mouth to see his helm gazing back at him. The insides of the bags occupied a space of Mundus all of their own, allowing him to stuff far more than their appearance suggested within their folds. 

He pulled out piece after piece of his great, hellishly heavy armor, slipping away from Lucina to peel off the ragged garb and replace it with the Dwemer-made material and metal. It was cold, making his flesh ripple with goosebumps, and smelled faintly of Dwemer oil, but he pushed through the discomfort. He could feel the powerful enchantments etched into the swirling designs as each piece slid into place, enhancing his already frightening strength as the Dwemer magics reacted to his blood. 

Caesar inhaled deeply, letting the magic flow through his veins. Gods, this power was intoxicating! 

He cast aside the pathetic rags and buckled his silver Dwemer-made blade to his hip, the weight a familiar comfort. At least he'd be able to take more hits: his dragonskin was tough, but nowhere near the strength of an actual dragon's hide. 

Caesar sighed and made his way back to Lucina, finding the girl still sleeping off having her lungs filled with dust and whatever else the foul air of the mines had forced into her and then pushing herself to exhaustion. She was impressive, to say the least, to have grown so strong. 

His last summon was still kneeling there, waiting for him to claim the sack it offered. Caesar took the sack and carefully pulled Lucina's azure garb from within its folds, her blade causing his blood to curdle as he handled it. 

That sword...he hadn't noticed, earlier, in the rush of getting into Cidhna Mine, but Caesar's dragon soul was recoiling from the weapon, nearly making him fling it onto the stones. If he hadn't been wearing his armor, Caesar got the uneasy sense that his flesh would have been seared by the weapon wherever he touched it. 

The great doors leading into the entrance hall ground open, metal groaning against stone, and his fingers immediately closed around the hilt of his sword. 

"They had to have come in here!" a rough voice growled. 

"'Find the Stormcloaks and kill 'em!" 

"For the Forsworn!" 

Gods damn it. 

Caesar glanced down at Lucina, who was still unconscious, then at the two summons who were no longer there to take the girl's pile of gear. He'd have to either conjure an army or bend the world around him to confuse the many onrushing foes he could now hear. 

His hands filled with void-like power, drawing upon his knowledge of the ancient Dwemer, and right as the first of the Forsworn came into sight, his unleashed his magic. Gates opened before him en masse, the screeching of metal and steam assailing Caesar's ears immediately. 

"What the?!" Was all the first savage got out before a bolt pierced his throat and dropped him. 

A score of Dwemer Spheres rolled forward, crossbows snapping loudly with each shot they fired. Caesar crouched, scooping Lucina into his arms before grabbing her gear. That sword...he'd have one of the shades grab it. 

At least there was no chance of Lucina getting hit by a stray projectile or spell. Caesar jogged deeper into Arknthamgz, carefully balancing his passenger and her gear as he shielded her with his body. 

Metal crashed and screamed behind him, mixing with the screams of the dying and the parting of flesh with steel. He crossed over a fallen pillar and found the crushed remains of a golden Sphere underneath some rubble. The great entrance chambers lay ahead, and Caesar shuddered at what state he might find them in as the roaring sound of crashing water reached his ears. 

 _"Turn back,"_ a ghostly female voice echoed through the ruins.

Caesar scowled. Ghosts always made his head hurt, especially the ones who could actually hurt him with their ethereal weapons. It made no sense, but he didn't have the heart to question it, especially if the ghosts were begging him to destroy them before they hurt an innocent person against their wills. 

That Sid bastard didn't suffer nearly enough for all the agony he'd inflicted upon the living and the dead in Rannveig's Fast. 

Caesar kept walking, his heart sinking the moment he entered what had once been a beautifully crafted, extravagant chamber. It was all rubble and a great gorge cutting the chamber in half, torrents of water gushing through the gorge with enough power to spray him even from where he stood. 

The earth shook, and Caesar glanced upwards just in time to see massive chunks of stone fall from what had once been the ceiling, further expanding the great hole that he could make out. The falling stone crashed into the river with an almighty roar, spraying torrents of water in all directions. 

Where was the ghost? 

 _"Turn back, before it's too late,"_ the voice pleaded as if in answer, but Caesar didn't move. 

A sigh echoed through the ravaged chamber, and the fine hairs on Caesar's neck rose in warning to a sudden presence at his back. He turned, partially, and found himself gazing at the blue, ethereal form of a Nord woman dressed in steel armor, a quiver and bow on her back and two daggers strapped to her waist. 

"What are you still doing here?" She demanded, folding her arms across her chest. "And what are you carrying?" 

Caesar glanced past her as mechanical rattling reached his ears, the ghost turning just in time to see blood-covered silver Spheres rolling towards them, blades extended. One was holding Lucina's sword, its own blade inside the strange circular gap that separated divine blade from scarlet hilt. 

The ghost flinched, reaching for her bow. "Dwemer Spheres?! Run! Quickly!" 

"Don't draw your weapon," Caesar ordered, and the ghost froze. "They won't harm me."

The Spheres regarded the ghost curiously as they clustered around the trio, no doubt sensing that the spirit was, well, dead. The one toting Lucina's sword dropped the weapon by her feet, seeming quite proud of itself as it nodded with satisfaction.

"W-what? Why aren't they attacking?" The ghost sounded completely bewildered as she looked at the machines surrounding her. "And why are they silver?" 

"A long story," Caesar sighed. "I thought you would have asked why my Dwemer armor is so strange-looking, first." 

The ghost hesitated as she turned back to him. "I-I thought the silver was a trick of the light, and I didn't really get a close look at that strange crest on your head. What's going on?" 

"These Animunculi serve me, due to the Dwemer blood I was granted in Blackreach," Caesar answered. "But, before I say any more: what the hells happened here? What triggered the earthquake that destroyed Arknthamgz?" 

"Dwemer blood?! Blackreach?!" The spirit's jaw dropped. "What...how?!" 

Lucina groaned and stirred in Caesar's arms, drawing the ghost's alarmed gaze. 

"A woman? Is she hurt?" 

Caesar knelt and gently laid the blue-haired warrior against a pillar, placing her gear at her side as he turned back to the ghost. "You answer first, and I'll tell you along the way." 

The spirit hesitated, and Caesar allowed his gaze to wander the room. His eyes spotted a dark form sprawled out on a rocky pillar overlooking the rapids, bridged by fallen Dwener pillars.

"What the...a body?" His feet urged him forward, closing the distance in moments as he knelt by the broken corpse.

It was a young woman, perhaps late 20s, with dark hair, dressed in steel armor with two daggers strapped to her waist. From the way she was sprawled, limbs bending in ways they shouldn't as blood leaked from her form, she'd died from falling a great height. 

Caesar brushed a hand against the water-slick flesh of her face, the Dwemer sensors registering a faint heat. She'd died perhaps mere minutes ago.

"Stop touching my body!" The ghost-oh wait, that made sense- snapped, appearing at his side. "What do you think you're doing?" 

Wait a minute. 

Caesar wasn't too skilled with Restoration magic, as he'd told Lucina earlier, but he knew enough to repair the damage done to this body. His hands filled with divine light, and he began pouring golden power into the broken form. 

"Stop that!" The ghost snapped again, her voice trembling. "Healing a broken corpse won't do anything!" 

Oh, this idea was insane, but with the soul here...yes, this could work! 

The broken limbs straightened, slowly, and the weeping cuts began closing until not even a scar was left on the woman's pale flesh. He could feel her bones knitting together underneath the beaten and dented armor, the stones that had dug into her flesh being expelled as he poured his magic further in. 

After another few moments, the rapidly cooling body lay perfectly straight upon the stony ground, its organs back in their proper places as bones finally finished snapping back into position. 

"Lay down in it," he ordered the ghost, who balked. 

She reached for her daggers. "You're a necromancer! I will not allow you to defile my body!" 

Caesar sighed. "Not necromancy: Divine magic gifted by Arkay. Lay down in your damn body and let me merge your soul back into it." 

The ghost froze, her eyes wide as she stared at him. "You can do that?" 

Caesar lifted his Amulet of Arkay, which had begun glowing as he'd focused on the magic needed. "Trust me: this isn't necromancy." 

The ghost studied him, the gears in her head turning as she digested his words. His Spheres were ignoring her now but staying in formation around Lucina as she kept groaning softly. With luck, she would wake up soon. 

"I'll trust you, I don't know why, but don't make me regret this," the ghost pushed past him and carefully lined her ethereal body up with her corpse, blue fading under the cooling flesh. 

Caesar placed his hands upon her stomach, gooseflesh rippling up his arms at the unnatural cold that always followed any contact with spirits. He channeled Arkay's power, calling upon the Aedra's guidance as golden light shone from his hands. 

"Divine Arkay, hear my plea; grant me the power of divine unity," he whispered, the cold replacing with great warmth. "Make flesh and soul whole once more, and close Oblivion's accursed door!"

The magic erupted from his fingers, warm wind coasting through the Dwemer ruins as the faint chiming of bells echoed through Caesar's ears. The warmth faded from his fingers, and the light faded as he pulled his hands away, blinking the spots from his eyes. 

The corpse shifted, its fingers twitching. Its chest was rising and falling again, faint huffs escaping its lips as its eyelids fluttered. 

"Easy, now," Caesar cautioned. "I've only managed to use this spell once, and I don't know how your body will react to being forcibly reunited with its soul." 

A soft groan escaped the woman's lips as her limbs twitched. "It...hurts." 

Her voice was raw and strained, but it had bloody worked! Hells yes! 

Caesar grinned as he squeezed the woman's hand. "You feel that?" 

Another faint groan. "Yes." 

Holy hells!

His heart rate spiked as he grinned again. "Hey, good news: you're alive again." 

The woman's eyes fluttered open, brilliant brown irises gazing upon him. Her body shifted this way and that as she tested herself, and Caesar drew upon his rapidly depleting reserves of magicka to bathe her in more golden light. 

"It...worked?" She spoke hesitantly, testing her voice as it grew stronger. "The pain is...fading." 

"Good, 'cus I'm about to run out of magicka," Caesar replied as he depleted what was left.

The golden glow faded, his body hollowed as he pulled his hands back. Restoration always drained him the most. His head swam a bit from emptying so much magicka at once, but it was almost a pleasant feeling. 

The corpse-woman- sat up slowly, wincing as she tested muscles that no doubt had to be feeling stiff. "I'm alive..." 

"Yes," Caesar shook his head slowly to clear it.

Finally...he'd had the chance to bring back a soul who deserved a second chance! He'd seen so many innocent lives taken, their souls whisked away before he could even attempt the divine spell. 

The woman threw her arms around his neck, tightly enough to make his armor creak in protest. Caesar quickly raised his hand to halt his Spheres as he heard the tell-tale sound of their bows loading. 

"Hold fire," he ordered, and the woman scrabbled away from him in alarm. "You're fine." 

"Thank you...thank you so much!" Overjoyed tears were streaming down her cheeks despite her attempts to remove them. "How did you even learn that magic?" 

"A lot of effort," he answered, rising and offering her a hand. "Think you can stand?" 

The woman took it, allowing herself to be pulled up to her feet. "Thank you, truly...gods, I never even told you my name, did I? It's Katria." 

Katria? 

"Why does that sound so familiar?" Caesar frowned: had he read it somewhere?

Katria's eyes hardened. "You read that book, didn't you? The Aetherium Wars?" 

Ah, that was it! The dedication on the first page! 

Recognition must have flickered across his face, for Katria's expression soured further as her fists clenched. "Everything that was in that book is my work! My research! Until my bastard apprentice stole it and published it under his name!" 

"Ah," Caesar winced. "That's why you came here, wasn't it? To find the Aetherium Forge?" 

He remembered that much from the book, at least. 

Katria nodded, the anger burning within her eyes a deadly warning to mind his words around her. "Isn't that why you're here, as well?" 

"No, actually. The Forsworn invaded Markarth, and Lucina and I came here to escape them."

"The Forsworn invaded Markarth?!" Katria's eyes widened.

"Aye, but my defenses have them well in hand," Caesar shrugged, turning up and striding back towards where Lucina lay. 

She was awakening, her eyelids fluttering as she teetered on the brink of consciousness. Katria followed as he strode over to Lucina, the Spheres watching her every move. 

"Your defenses?" Katria repeated. 

"Aye: every Dwemer automaton I come across obeys me now thanks to the blood I bear," Caesar knelt by Lucina and gently shook her shoulder. "Lucina, can you hear me?" 

Again her eyelids fluttered. "Caesar?" 

"Yeah, it's me." 

Lucina groaned softly before pushing her eyes to open, brilliant blue piercing his soul. "You have your armor back?" 

"And yours," he gently took her wrist and guided her fingers to her blasted sword's hilt.  

That rounded gap in the weapon flashed a bright light for a mere moment, and Lucina's muddled expression cleared. She sat up, fingers closing around her weapon as she gazed around.

"Where are we? What happened?" She glanced at her side and smiled at the sight of her gear. "How long was I out?" 

"Not too long: I had some of my shades retrieve our gear and meet us here," Caesar explained, hurriedly covering Lucina with his body as the earth shook again, dislodging more boulders.

The rubble splashed into the gorge of rushing water, roaring with the violence of the impact. 

"As for where we are: we're in what's left of Arknthamgz after the earthquake," Caesar backed off, giving Lucina room to breathe as her wide eyes took in the ruins. "Some Forsworn tried to follow us, but they've been dealt with." 

Lucina took in the bloodstained Spheres and nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as Katria strode closer. "Who is this?" 

"My name is Katria, and I owe Caesar my life," Katria answered, offering him a grateful smile. 

The ground shook again, and Katria cursed under her breath. "And an explanation for what happened here." 

"Perhaps we should let Lucina get dressed and then focus on whatever the hell happened here?" Caesar suggested. "My Spheres will protect you from the debris and any other Forsworn that show up." 

Lucina nodded and made to rise, her legs wobbling as she put her weight upon them. Caesar made to take ahold of her arm, but she shook her head and, instead, leaned on the pillar she'd been seated against. 

"I can manage," she murmured, more to herself than to him, her features tight with concentration as she fought against her own weariness. 

"How is your breathing?" Caesar had scarcely had time to really focus on healing her, given the Forsworn and Katria, but he had managed to flush her lungs shortly after roasting the Forsworn outside the ruins. 

"My chest doesn't hurt anymore," Lucina replied, gripping her sword as if her life depended on it. "My arms and legs, on the other hand..." 

Caesar gathered what little magicka had regenerated within his body and sent a burst of light into Lucina's body, her expression softening immediately. 

"You have my gratitude," she smiled before crouching and gathering up her gear.

She looked around, eyes widening as she took in the ruins. "Goodness..." 

"I know," Caesar murmured, the ancient memories of the Dwemer choosing that moment to finally resurface. 

Hot pain flared through his skull as a flurry of nonsensical images flickered before his sight. He saw a great cavern, filled with lava, and some sort of Dwemer-made machinery dominating the space before it. The massive construct, maybe some sort of forge, hissed and rattled, disgorging a gear-shaped thing made entirely of a sort of glowing azure crystal substance. 

"Caesar?" Lucina's concerned voice shattered the vision. "Caesar, are you alright?" 

He shook his head, the visions of metal and fire fading back to the ruins. "I'm fine: aftereffect from expending so much magic at once." 

Katria grimaced, about to open her mouth to apologize, but he waved it off. 

"Go ahead, Lucina. We'll wait for you here." 

Lucina nodded and ducked back into the corridor they'd entered in, and Caesar hoped she wouldn't go down far enough to stumble over the remains of what had to have been a one-sided slaughter. 

"Are you certain you're feeling well?" Katria asked the moment the cobalt-haired woman was gone. 

"I'm fine," Caesar growled, the different blood mingling in his veins filling him with warmth. "I've endured far worse than a minor headache. It'll take more than this to keep the Dragonborn down." 

Katria's eyes widened. "The Dragonborn?! But I-I thought the Dragonborn's name was Drake...Caesar." 

"I mostly call myself Caesar," he shrugged, right as the sounds of flesh slapping against stone reached his ears.

His Spheres clanked almost in perfect unison, raising their bows at the slouching, pale-skinned creatures shuffling into view from the other side of the ravine. Those faces, with their feral, twisted expressions and the tight fleshy indentations where the eyes had once been, never ceased to send chills down Caesar's spine, especially with their flattened, quivering nostrils. 

"Falmer," he growled.

Metal snapped and twanged en masse, sending a volley of burning bolts into the twisted creatures. The Falmer crumpled with pained cries and screeches, their chiton weapons and shields clattering to the stone floor. 

"Damn things are like flies," Katria muttered. "No matter how many you kill..." 

Caesar nodded. "I know what you mean, but their appearance here makes me wonder how many of the automated defenders have been destroyed." 

Katria flinched. "Almost all of them, since I'd been taking my time getting through them." 

"Those arrows on your back: armor piercing Dwemer make?" Caesar guessed, and she nodded. "Impressive. Not many can get their hands on that kind of specialized equipment." 

Katria gave him a wry grin. "I know my Dwemer gear." 

The two fell silent, warily eyeing the ruins as the Spheres rolled about, bows ready. After what felt like a year of silence and quaking earth, light footsteps announced Lucina's arrival. 

Caesar turned to see the woman approaching, dressed once more in her blue apparel and with her divine blade hanging from her waist. 

"My apologies for making you wait," she exhaled wearily, a gloved hand rising to her chest before lowering it. "I heard your Spheres firing at something." 

Well, she'd have to find out about the damn things, anyway.

"We may run across creatures known as Falmer in these ruins," Caesar explained. 

"Falmer?" Lucina repeated, a frown on her lips. 

"They're the remnants of an ancient Snow Elf race that had been enslaved and imprisoned underground by the Dwemer," Caesar could still see the visions of elven men, women, and children being herded belowground, sequestered away like animals and clapped in chains. "The Falmer have become twisted by generations of living in darkness and feeding on the mushrooms growing on the walls. And they're also blind." 

Lucina shuddered. "But they're the victims of this, are they not?"

"They were, once, but now the Falmer are little more than twisted beasts that will not hesitate to kill everything that dwells on the surface," Caesar warned. "Show them no mercy, for they will show you none." 

"Very well," Lucina murmured, a forlorn gaze sweeping over the ruins. "Where to?" 

"Follow me," Katria piped up, striding towards the pillar where her corpse had lay. "I've come this far, and with the both of you and the Spheres, this place will yield its secrets!" 

Caesar scowled. "We didn't come here seeking the Forge, Katria." 

"True, but why not explore and find what we can?" Lucina interjected. "If this Forge could be useful to us, then why shouldn't we seek it?" 

Caesar frowned. "Do you mean 'us' as in our little party, or 'us' as in Ulfric's little rebellion?" 

"Why aren't you helping them fight the Empire's tyranny?" Lucina's eyes hardened as she folded her arms before her chest. "The Stormcloaks want freedom!" 

"For Nords, and Nords, alone," Caesar resisted the urge to sigh. "Ulfric's rebellion might be noble, but it is not the solution that the world needs right now. Our greatest threat is the Thalmor, and Ulfric's doing exactly what those arrogant bastards want him to do." 

"Which is?" Katria asked, her curiosity apparently having been piqued. 

"Weakening the Empire and weakening Skyrim with needless bloodshed. No matter who wins this war, the Thalmor are the only ones who benefit from it," Caesar scowled at the onrushing water surging beneath them. "I swore to my masters that I wouldn't get involved in this war, but it's becoming increasingly difficult to keep my oath intact." 

Lucina frowned at him. "Your masters?" 

"The Greybeards of High Hrothgar. They taught me the basics of controlling my powers and interacting with the dragon blood and soul that reside within my body. They helped me persevere when my dragon nature threatened to turn me into a beast," Caesar shuddered as his dragon soul roared deep within him, but he drew upon the Greybeard's teachings and quelled it. "A dragon's very nature is to conquer, to rule and enslave. It's been difficult managing my own instincts, but the Greybeards have helped me find a way to hold it in, to stay myself." 

Caesar shook his head and strode forward, flanked by his loyal Spheres as he made his way into the ruins. He could worry about motives and the righteousness of certain causes another time: he had enemies to kill. 


	7. Lost Legends

These ancient ruins were as advanced as Caesar had claimed, the hissing of steam fighting the roar of water and the clanking of countless metal pieces for supremacy as the group advanced through the wrecked city. 

More of those wretched, pale-skinned gremlin Falmer advanced as they trio wove through the caverns, the unstable earthen paths putting Lucina's nerves on edge as the caves continued to tremble every now and then. Loose stones and more chunks of the cave fell and splashed into the currents below. 

Sometimes, a piece of Dwemer machinery or even parts of a partially destroyed automaton would fall from one of the upper levels to join the rest of the crumbling city under the mountains. Caesar occasionally used a burst of wind magic to deflect falling debris, but so far, he had avoided Shouting. Lucina didn't blame him: one wrong Word would likely make the caves collapse.

She didn't quite understand how such a powerful warrior could just sit idlily by and watch as his countrymen tore themselves apart around him. He had the power to end all of this fighting and free Skyrim from Imperial tyranny, and then maybe he could deal with these Thalmor types afterwards. Caesar had the power, but he wasn't using it to free his people. 

Lucina wanted to be angry, to let Falchion carve him apart like it would any other dragon, but the heaviness in his voice as he'd spoken had made her heart sink into her abdomen. 

"Hey, my bow!" Katria's excited voice drew Lucina from her reverie. "I'd wondered what happened to it!" 

There was a great hole in the floor, where a fallen tree extended over the void, and Lucina carefully peered through it to see where they'd been standing, earlier. Her stomach twisted at the great height, as well as the jagged rocks she could now see jutting from the river. 

She looked up just in time to see Caesar striding across the fallen tree, his gait steady and controlled as he approached a golden bow that had been snagged on one of the branches. 

"Be careful!" Katria warned as the tree shifted with his weight. 

Caesar remained silent as he stooped, pulled the bow from the branches, and retraced his steps back to some-what solid ground. He offered the golden bow to Katria, who stared at him in awe as she dumbly accepted the weapon. 

"T-thank you," she stammered. 

Caesar nodded, his helm glinting in the light flickering through a hole in the ceiling. "Are we close?" 

Katria slung the bow over her shoulder and nodded, her expression hardening. "We're almost there. I...didn't get the chance to run very far before the ground opened up beneath me." 

"You fell?" Lucina glanced back down the hole, her guts churning at the thought of plummeting towards that doom. "How did you survive that?" 

Katria flinched. "I...I didn't. When you were unconscious, Caesar used the god Arkay's power to bind my restless spirit back into my body." 

The god of the dead? That made sense, but...

"He brought you back to life?!" Yearning, painful and forbidden, filled Lucina's heart, sorrow plunging her thoughts into a dark corner. 

"The spell will only work if body and soul are both present," Caesar said softly, his voice heavy. "Katria died with unfulfilled wishes, desperately praying she could get a second chance, and that strong emotion allowed her spirit to persist, which is unusual for Nords unless they've been bound by necromancers." 

"Nords usually go to Sovngarde upon death, do they not?" Lucina hoped she was pronouncing the name of the Nordic afterlife correctly. 

"They do," Caesar nodded. "It's a fine place, worthy of the honored dead who make their way there." 

Again, Lucina found herself staring at the Dragonborn as she processed what he'd said. "You've been there before? But...how?" 

"I pursued Alduin there some months past," Caesar answered. "The bastard dragon had set up a portal to take him there so he could devour the souls of the mortal dead, so I had to follow him and kill him with the aid of ancient heroes." 

"The stories are still being told in taverns and inns all over Skyrim," Katria said with a sly grin. "Bards everywhere are singing more and more songs in your name." 

"And I'm still having random Nords coming up to me and thanking me for saving their very souls, as well as the souls of their families and ancestors," Caesar grunted. "How much farther, Katria?" 

"Not too far, sorry for getting off track," Katria said with a sheepish smile. "This way." 

Lucina followed, digesting everything that she'd just heard. If it had been possible to create a portal to the afterlife here, then...maybe...

"Well, this is it," Katria murmured, as if afraid something was listening. 

Lucina shook her head and froze at the sight of the massive structure dominating the cavern. It was a building of sorts, the golden face she'd seen on Centurions and other Dwemer architecture staring down upon them as five four-pronged Resonators hummed in the niches carved beside the face. 

"It's a Tonal Lock," Katria explained. "Very simple, and very, very deadly. You see those Resonators? Hit them in the right order, and those gates should open. Get it wrong, and...well...you saw what happened when I tried it." 

"The earthquake..." Caesar swore under his breath. 

Katria laughed bitterly. "I thought I was prepared for anything, but how do you prepare for a damn earthquake?" 

Lucina looked around, immediately spotting the remains of another man who'd been impaled by arrows. Several skeletons also littered the floor, the damage on their ancient frames revealing their brutal deaths. 

"I wrote down some notes, but..." Katria gave a cry of triumph and lunged at one of the pillars, stooping to pick up a journal with a faded red cover. "My journal! I'd dropped it when I ran!" 

"How far into the combination did you get?" Caesar asked, crouching over the more recent body.

"Only the first two, nearly getting myself shot and then chased by a Centurion before the earthquake was triggered," Katria answered. 

"This guy has the third one," Caesar announced, lifting a tattered scrap of paper from the freshest corpse. "So we'll need to figure out the last two, ourselves." 

Katria gave a forced laugh. "Hopefully, that will be the only earthquake we have."

"What are the first two Resonators?" Caesar asked, and Katria unslung her bow. 

"I'll hit them: you tell me what the third one is," she nocked an arrow and pulled back, then loosed it at one of the Resonators. 

The device rotated upwards with a loud clang, green light shining around it as steam spewed from the golden face's nostrils. Katria fired at a second one, and the process repeated. 

"What's the third one?" Katria asked, pulling a third arrow back. 

"Top left."

Katria fired, and the Resonator spun. Only two were left now: top right and bottom middle. 

"Any suggestions?" Katria asked, her voice tight. "If we get this wrong, there's no telling what other nasty surprises this lock has for us." 

Lucina tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat, but Caesar said nothing as he stared at the last two Resonators. Even the rattling and hissing of his Spheres seemed to grow quieter. 

"Top right, and then the middle one," Caesar said softly.

Katria glanced at him. "You're certain?" 

"The Dwemer blood inside of me," he answered. "It's giving me the memories of those who locked this place away." 

Katria pulled back on the bow, steely certainty in her eyes. "Top right first?" 

"Yes." 

She fired, hitting her mark, and the Resonator swung upwards. Green light, followed by steam. 

Lucina released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "We've got it?" 

"We have it!" Katria was actually shaking with excitement, her lips curved into a wide smile. "This is what I came here for!" 

Caesar nodded. "The last one, Katria." 

The woman hurriedly pulled back another arrow and loosed it, the final Resonator spinning into place with a loud hum. The golden face spewed more steam, and the two gates on the lock swung open. 

"Let's go!" Katria sprinted towards the closer gate, not even bothering to sling her bow back across her shoulders. 

Caesar's helmet swiveled towards Lucina, and a chuckle escaped him. "Well, this should be interesting. How are you holding up?" 

"I'm fine, thank you."

Truthfully? She missed her father, her family. Her heart yearned to be back with her friends, to be back with her parents and sister. No...she didn't belong there anymore, and she would not allow herself to be a burden upon those she loved. 

"If you need to talk about anything, I'm more than willing to lend an ear or two," Caesar said softly. "I know first-hand how destructive holding everything in can be on a person." 

Lucina hesitated, glancing at the metal face gazing back at her. "T-thank you...I'll-I'll keep that in mind." 

He nodded, and they silently fell into step at the other's side. Katria whooped happily from within the vault, and the duo increased their pace. The inside was lined with golden shelves packed with jewels and ingots of gold and silver. There were other ingots that looked like a mess of brass and gold, combined: the same color as the original automatons and the face. 

Katria was standing in front of a raised altar of sorts, where a strange sort of gleaming blue crystal shaped like part of a disk was resting. 

"It's pure aetherium!" Katria whispered, the excitement in her voice drawing a smile to Lucina's lips. "I've seen drawings of this! It's part of a key: the key to the Forge!" 

"You are correct:" Caesar said softly as he approached the crystal, one hand extending towards the shard as if in a dream. "Raldbthar...Bthar-Zel...Arknthamgz...Mzulf...The shards lie here..." 

Katria jolted. "You know where the other shards are? I'd put those cities on my map as starting points, but I never thought..." 

Caesar picked up the shard and handed it to Katria, who took it with reverence and almost absurd caution, as if afraid the shard would shatter in her hands. 

"What should we do?" Lucina asked softly.

"What do you mean?" Katria asked, her eyes bright with excitement. "We find the rest of the shards, of course!" 

"I hate to break it to you, but I can't go traipsing about Skyrim in pursuit of an ancient legend....again," Caesar sighed. "The sooner I deal with this damn vampire menace, the sooner I can go back to Solstheim to stop the First Dragonborn from returning to Tamriel to enslave all life in Mundus." 

Katria stared dumbly at him, her mouth agape. 

"Yeah, don't ask: it's just more complicated crap the Aedra delight in throwing my way," Caesar grunted. "First it was the World Eater, and now it's the First Dragonborn." 

"I've read some stories on Miraak," Katria said thoughtfully. "Wasn't he killed a long time ago?" 

"He was supposed to die, but he made a pact with Hermaeus Mora, the Daedric Prince of Knowledge," Caesar replied. "He resides in Apocrypha, where all the knowledge in the world is hoarded by old Herma-Mora, waiting to return to Mundus. So long as he remains Mora's slave, he is granted eternal life in Apocrypha." 

Lucian shuddered. "He sounds terrible..."

"He is. The Daedra do not care for mortals other than as slaves to carry out their bidding and desires, and Miraak is not a figure to be trifled with. As the first to receive Akatosh's blessing, Miraak is possessed of power that only another Dragonborn can match," Caesar's tone softened. "I can only pray that I am capable of standing against him and whatever minions he commands, alone." 

A spark of defiance alighted within Lucina's breast. "You will not have to fight him alone! I will stand by your side!" 

She didn't know why the words had been blurted from her mouth, especially when she had resigned herself to potentially being his enemy, but the way his voice had faltered...

"No," he said immediately. "You shouldn't be here, to begin with, and I'll not drag you into this world's troubles. Namely: the troubles that are my responsibility." 

Caesar shook his head. "And...I don't want you to be caught in the middle of two of the most powerful Dragonborn this world has ever seen." 

"Making quite the claim, there," Katria said with a light tone. "I didn't know you were one of the most powerful Dragonborn to exist." 

Caesar didn't laugh, and Lucina could have sworn the metal mask of his helmet darkened. "I single-handedly drove Alduin to death's door and had him running for his life, where the ancient Tongues numbered three of their mightiest Voices and still had to resort to using an Elder Scroll to banish the World-Eater. When we clashed in Sovngarde, I alone managed to keep Alduin from reducing the afterlife to a burning ruin while the ancient Tongues could barely scratch his scales." 

Lucina swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling very dry. He wasn't boasting: she could feel the truth in every word Caesar spoke. 

"I am going to be the Last Dragonborn to ever exist in this world, and the strength that I command far outstrips my predecessors' for that very reason," he continued. "Miraak is the only one who could possibly match me because both he and I were destined to face Alduin. Miraak refused his destiny and struck out on his own, leaving Alduin to wreak havoc upon the world around him." 

Caesar turned away from the two women, the rattling of his Spheres outside the vault reaching Lucina's ears. "So...don't you see? I'm only Dragonborn because I was supposed to fix Miraak's mistakes. If not for him, I would be nobody, perhaps just another dead soldier fighting for the Legion." 

"The Imperial Legion?" Lucina frowned. "You would be fighting for Imperial tyranny?" 

Caesar sighed. "If only to defy the Thalmor. The Empire has made many mistakes, don't get me wrong, but with the power at my command, I can change everything for the better. I can make everything what it should be." 

He walked away with a predator's grace, his silver Dwemer armor clanking with each fluid movement he made. 

"Not my business, but why're the two of you so hung up on this Imperial/Stormcloak thing?" Katria asked. "I think I can see why, what with you wearing blue and all, but..." 

Lucina shook her head. "This...is what I usually wear, Katria. I was travelling through my homeland when I heard a Dragon Shout. I was dragged through a portal to a battlefield between the Imperials and Stormcloaks." 

"And since you were wearing blue, the legionnaires attacked you, thinking you were a Stormcloak," Katria guessed.

Lucina nodded. "The Stormcloaks came to my rescue and took me to one of their camps, where Arya explained what was happening in Skyrim." 

"What happened next? I mean, how did you meet Caesar?" Katria asked, the curiosity in her voice drawing a smile to Lucina's lips. 

At least, until she remembered the circumstances of their first meeting. 

"The Stormcloaks were assaulting Whiterun hold in a bid to pry control from Balgruuf," Lucina murmured, finding it difficult to look at her companion. "I...went with them, hoping to learn more about why I'd been brought here." 

"You helped the Stormcloaks attack Whiterun, knowing that the most powerful man in Skyrim is a Thane of the city?" Katria's eyes widened. 

"Everybody believed Caesar was on Solstheim and wouldn't be present," Lucina admitted. "He showed up and Shouted us away from the walls, then summoned an army to drive us out of the Hold." 

Katria shook her head slowly, digesting the words. "I can only imagine the terror of being pursued by an army of Dwemer automata!" 

"It wasn't the machines that chased us, although we were surrounded by Spheres at first," Lucina explained. "We were pursued by Draugr." 

Katria's eyes widened. "Draugr! Gods..." 

"Those Shouting monstrosities chased us all the way from Whiterun to Rorikstead," Lucina remembered. "And we arrived in Markarth just in time to see a Forsworn agent attempt to murder someone." 

And so she continued recalling the tale as the duo made their way back the way they'd come, flanked by two of Caesar's Spheres. 

By the time they reached where Katria had fallen, Caesar was standing, waiting for them, and Lucina finished the story.

"And then we ended up here, but I'm afraid I fainted from my exertions," those words left a bitter taste in her mouth, but Lucina didn't think it noble to omit that just to save face. 

"You're far stronger than you give yourself credit for," Caesar spoke up. "The air in Cidhna Mine is notorious for making newcomers faint within hours due to how damaging it is to the lungs. With the efforts you expended and the way you fought on our way out, I'm quite impressed that you'd managed to keep yourself moving for so long." 

Lucina flushed from the praise, silently cursing herself for being so easily flattered. "But I wasn't you: I didn't just walk into the mines and use Three words to crush half a dozen men." 

"Unrelenting Force is, without a doubt, one of my most powerful Shouts," Caesar nodded. "Imagine being hit by a wall of pure power, strong enough to rip scales from dragonhide and to crush bones with only a breath." 

Lucina shuddered. 

Katria stared in awe. 

"The war will escalate in earnest, now, with the assault on Whiterun," Caesar continued. "I may have to advance my own plans quicker than expected if I am to contain the fighting before more innocent lives are lost." 

Lucina frowned. "Plans? What plans?" 

Caesar didn't respond immediately, pacing as if lost in thought. "With the damn vampires now running amok...I need to increase the patrols, put some stronger units near the villages and the farms." 

"What?" Lucina glanced at the Spheres: was he talking about them?

"But if I ignore the battles raging...innocent people might be caught in the crossfire. Damn it all...I need more time...more units," he kept talking to himself, the irritation growing in his voice. "The lifts in Blackreach will make moving units easier, but...If I could reactivate the production forges on Solstheim, the island would be safer and I could transfer more units here." 

"Caesar!" Katria attempted to reach him, but he didn't seem to hear her. 

"Bthardamz has enough Animunculi to patrol the northern edges of the Reach, but with most of the ones here destroyed by the quake...I'll need to salvage what I can. Raldbthar and Mzinchaleft can handle the Pale and Eastmarch, with Alftand keeping an eye on the Sea of Ghosts," Caesar sighed. "I'll have to relay more precise orders to the keepers in order to keep my armies in communication with one another, but that's one benefit of working with Dwemer Animunculi: they share information with one another with their network. It's easy to communicate and to pass orders along." 

Lucina and Katria shared a confused glance. Was he even talking to them? 

"Why is he talking about Dwemer cities like they're actual people?" Katria whispered to herself.

Lucina shrugged helplessly. 

"No matter," Caesar said after a moment. "So long as I can keep the Animunculi moving, I can protect the towns and farms from vampires and roving armies, alike. I'll keep the Spiders underground with some Spheres to keep the Falmer at bay and to keep everything in working order, but I need to put the Centurions in places where they can get into position quickly." 

"Um, Caesar?" Lucina attempted again to get his attention. "Caesar?" 

He looked back at them, jolting as if he hadn't expected them to still be there. "Oh, I thought you'd already left to look for the other Aetherium shards. If you're worried about my Animunculi attacking you, don't be: I've already passed along orders that the two of you are not to be harmed." 

One of the Spheres raised its crossbow hand, one of its appendages lifting as if it was holding a thumb up. 

Caesar nodded. "Do not attack them, and they will not attack you." 

He turned his back to them once again. "I need to get to Riften: there's a group of Vampire Hunters holing up in some old fortress in the mountains, and they might know where the vampire attacks are originating from. I'll find who's coordinating the vampires and I'll reduce their base of operations to steam and ash."  

"And you're just going to let us roam around without you?" Katria frowned.

"You know where to go, and you're both capable warriors," Caesar answered. "You don't need me babysitting you."

"Even though you know Lucina will be identified as a Stormcloak sympathizer?" Katria asked. "Even though you were saying earlier that since she isn't from Tamriel, she has no place in fighting here?" 

The Dragonborn sighed, his shoulders slumping. "To bring her with me would be to invite further danger. I have countless enemies who would adore the chance to harm her simply for walking at my side, and I do not want her to be harmed just because of me." 

"Yet her traveling with me wouldn't invite the same dangers?" Katria questioned. 

Caesar finally turned, his emotionless mask seeming to ripple with power. "Not while I have an army of my own roaming Skyrim, tearing apart any bandit clans foolish enough to stand against them. Not while my patrols guard the roads and forests around each of those ruins you speak of. And, once you get to Mzinchaleft or Alftand, you can use the lifts at Blackreach to get around to where the other cities are. Raldbthar, too, has a lift to Blackreach. The only two sites that aren't connected to Blackreach are Bthar-Zel and Mzulf, but the areas surrounding them are swarming with my Animunculi." 

 "So, you're saying that traveling with you would be far more dangerous than traipsing about looking for the Aetherium shards?" Lucina guessed. 

"Yes," Caesar nodded. "With me, I would protect you with my life, but I don't want to accidentally hurt you, since my power can be...difficult to reign in when I have living allies by my side. That's why I prefer to travel with expendable shades and conjurations." 

"Difficult to reign in with living allies?" Katria repeated. 

"Dragons cannot create," Caesar said softly. "We are beings of conquest, beings of destruction. I know healing magic, but it's strictly divine spells granted to me by Arkay. Restoration Magic...is almost repulsed by me." 

"But you aren't a dragon," Lucina pointed out, even though Falchion told her otherwise. 

Even though the sacred weapon considered Caesar a dragon in human form, like it had the avatar of Grima. 

Caesar chuckled hollowly. "I am a dragon in all but appearance. Trust me: that sword of yours knows what I am." 

He was right, even though the admittance made her heart sink.

"Ironic, isn't it: you would be safest at my side, while at the same time being subjected to the worst danger Skyrim has to throw at you," Caesar again turned his back on her. "I'll do what I can to keep you safe, but it would be best if we traveled apart. And, if you're with Katria and moving through areas guarded by my Animunculi, it keeps you out of the civil war." 

The faint grinding of stone on steel made them all pause, as did the echoing pounding of many feet on the ruined floors. 

"Some of the others said they saw him take her in this direction!" Arya's familiar voice echoed through the corridors, Lucina's heart skipping a beat. "We have to find Lucina!" 

Caesar had gone deathly still, his Spheres rattling forward to flank him in a line of silver and steam. At last, the blue Stormcloaks entered the great cavern, Arya at their head, only to freeze at the sight of the Animunculi. 

"Lucina!" The joy in Arya's voice made Lucina's heart flip with embarrassment. "Thank Talos you're safe!" 

"Release her, you Imperial loving swine!" One Stormcloak soldier, brave and so, so foolish, charged the Dragonborn, roaring. 

"Don't!" Lucina tried to scream, to get him to stop as the Spheres raised their hands, but she was too late. 

Crossbows filled the air with their reports, and the Stormcloak crumpled under a hail of burning projectiles. 

"Traitor!" 

"Kin-slayer!" 

"You bastard!" 

The Stormcloaks roared, but none dared take a step forward as the Spheres readied another volley. 

"What do you want with Lucina?" Arya kept her hands extended out to the side, avoiding her hammer's haft as every Sphere immediately took aim at her. 

"Leave her out of your fight," Gone was the soft, concerned tone, replaced by a cold, ruthless edge that drove a shudder up Lucina's spine. "Lower your weapons and walk away." 

"Like hells we're doing that," Arya growled, her worried gaze flitting to Lucina. "Are you alright, Lucina?" 

"I'm fine! He hasn't tried to harm me!" Lucina stepped closer to the Dragonborn and his mechanical servants. "Please, don't try to attack! Put up your weapons!" 

The Stormcloaks didn't budge. 

Caesar inhaled.  _"_ _Zun_ _Haal_ _Viik_ _!"_

Steel and iron were ripped from the Stormcloaks' hands, clattering against stone as the Shout rippled through their ranks. 

"Don't make me use something stronger than Disarm," Caesar warned, his hands flickering with strange light. 

"We're not here to fight!" Arya ignored her fallen weapon, keeping her hands raised as she slowly took a step forward. "I just wanted to ensure Lucina's safety!" 

"She's safe, and she'll be traveling with our mutual friend, here," Caesar replied in that cold voice, the power shimmering just beneath those words pounding Lucina's ears with each utterance. "Keep her out of your war, and we will have no further issues." 

"And what if she wants to come with us? To fight for Skyrim's freedom?" 

The fabric of the world rippled, just slightly, but enough for Lucina to sense the change. 

"Freedom?" Another Caesar in silver armor spoke from behind the Stormcloaks, making them whirl to face him as he leaned against the walls. 

"Or your delusions?" A third Dragonborn appeared to the side, lazily examining some ruined stonework. 

"What the hells?" Katria whispered at Lucina's side. 

There was a slight shift in the air every time another silver-clad man appeared, but Lucina couldn't figure out where they were coming from. Each man felt like the original, felt like a dragon, to Falchion's senses. 

"Oh Talos, not this again," Arya whispered, closing her eyes as tightly as she could. "Don't look at them!" 

"Too late," one of the three Caesars crooned, two more appearing to form a loose ring around the stunned Stormcloaks. 

 _"Faas Ru Maar!"_ The Shout of the combined Dragonborns poured into the Stormcloaks, an ominous scarlet wave that crashed upon the blue soldiers. 

The soldiers began screaming, several falling to their knees as they clutched desperately at their heads. Lucina's heart lurched as the color leeched from each soldier's face, two going so far as to vomit onto the floor. 

"Caesar! Stop this!" She reached for Falchion, ready to force the man to release the Stormcloaks from his Shout. 

The copied Caesars vanished as if they'd never existed, and the Stormcloaks groaned miserably as they floundered in their own piss and vomit, if those stains on their trousers were any indication. 

And the smell...Lucina and Katria took a few steps back, their noses wrinkling at the foul stench that assailed them. 

At least the Stormcloaks had stopped screaming. 

"You are brave, but remember just how outmatched you are the next time you feel the need to challenge me," Caesar said ominously. "I could have turned you to cinders or frozen your very souls with but a word. Attack me again and it will be the last thing you ever do." 

The Dragonborn took a few steps closer to Lucina's side, making her senses prickle. "Best of luck to you, Lucina. Once I've dealt with the vampires, I'll see if we can't find a boat in Windhelm that'll take you back to whatever continent you traveled from." 

"Caesar." She was about to correct him, but the Dragonborn walked away and vanished down the corridors before she could speak another word, his Spheres glaring at the groaning Stormcloaks before rattling after their master.

Lucina hurried over to Arya, pushing past the horrid smell, and was careful to avoid the puddles of human excrement as she knelt by the Stormcloak. 

"Bastard...used his Dismay Shout on us," the woman groaned. "Or, as we like to...call it: The Piss Yourself Shout. Overrides your body's senses...drives your fear crazy until you lose control of your body. Some of the bravest or dumbest are reduced to running for their lives, but...the rest..." 

"What can I do?" Lucina asked softly, gazing about at the poor soldiers as they groaned and clutched their stomachs. 

"Nothing yet," Arya grunted, stifling another gag. "But...once we recover enough to stand...to walk...we'll need to find the closest river." 

Katria glanced at the softer torrent of water cutting through the gorge. "Well, there's a river of sorts right down there. So long as we don't randomly get shot by Falmer, we can take care of you here." 

Lucina nodded, her gaze being drawn back to where the Dragonborn had been standing but mere moments before. She sent a silent prayer to Naga for his safety, and for her own. 

She needed to talk to him, soon, to ask him about the Shout that had brought her here.  

Another Stormcloak puked on the stones behind Arya. 


	8. A Distance to Travel

It was a cool night, a sea of shining stars painted by the brilliant, shimmering waves of a beautiful blue aurora borealis. Caesar crossed through the craggy expanses of the Reach alone, having sent his summoned Spheres off to scour the remaining Forsworn camps for survivors of the assault on Markarth. 

If there were any survivors, they wouldn't live for much longer. Caesar held a small amount of pity for the Forsworn and for their struggles, but since they'd reduced themselves into roaming savages, they would get no mercy from him. 

He prayed to whatever gods would listen that he wasn't making a mistake with Lucina in sending her off with Katria. The two women would be trailed every step of the way by his Animunculi, of course, these ones magically altered to be utterly silent and almost invisible to the naked eye when immobile. 

Everything about that blue-haired woman sent his draconic instincts into overdrive: from that brand in her eye to that dragon killing sword...She had a good heart and head, but she was easily swayed. Or...so Caesar had thought. 

It wasn't his place to judge her: he just had to keep Lucina safe so whatever kingdom she hailed from didn't form an army to avenge her. Yet another hostile force was the last thing Skyrim needed. 

And so he made his way down the craggy mountainsides near Fort Sungard, his plan to slip into Falkreath and then make his way through the mountain passes behind the Throat of the World. So long as he kept a decent pace, he would make it to Riften within a day or two. Maybe less, if he pushed himself. 

He climbed with ease, rocks scraping against his armor or tumbling down the hillside if he put his foot on the wrong spot. A few wolves and the occasional sabre cat looked up curiously as he passed, but the predators wisely refrained from attacking. 

He was a dragon in human form: the apex predator in Skyrim. None, save for maybe Miraak and other stronger dragons, were able to stand against him. 

Caesar could see the vast fields of Whiterun spreading out before him as he wound his way to where the three Holds interconnected, his draconic senses immediately warning him of a nearby presence. 

What the hell? How did they get so close? His heart sparked as he reached for his weapon, spinning to find...

"Dragonborn." 

Caesar scowled at the pale, blonde woman standing before him, her lamellate metal armor gleaming in the blue light. "Delphine. What do you want?" 

The Blade folded her arms, her curved longsword hanging from her waist as she sighed. "I want to know why you insist on protecting Paarthurnax." 

"This again?" Caesar glared at her. "I've told you already: Paarthurnax may have done terrible things in his past, but he is not the same dragon he used to be. He is the master of the Greybeards for a reason, and I'd sooner slit my own throat than betray my teachers." 

Delphine narrowed her eyes, her hand straying closer to the cloth-wrapped hilt of her curved blade. "But you'd betray us? And humankind as a whole? Have you forgotten how loyal your master was to Alduin?" 

"Everything that lived during the rule of the dragons was loyal to Alduin, willingly or not," Caesar replied. "Paarthurnax allowed me to find the Elder Scroll and fought with me against Alduin. I will not turn my sword upon a dragon that wishes to make himself better." 

"Better? I'm sure all dragons could learn how to get better," Delphine scoffed. "Even you said that destruction and conquest are in a dragon's very blood; your very nature." 

"And Paarthurnax has had centuries to overcome that nature, which he has dedicated himself to fulfilling," Caesar shook his head: he had no time to waste on this arrogant fool. "I won't kill Paarthurnax, and that's that. I don't need your help, Blade, especially if you will only give it so long as I follow your orders." 

Delphine scowled, opening her mouth to retort, but Caesar waved her off and turned his back to her. 

"I have important matters to attend to, Blade, so do not waste any more of my time. Unless, of course, you want to actually do something useful with yourself and help me kill the vampires menacing Skyrim," he began to walk away, ignoring Delphine's indignant shout. 

Worthless Blades. 

The beds in Markarth  _were_  made of stone. Lucina looked around at the guards' barracks in silent horror, the groans of men and women trying to get comfortable on the stone beds interspersed with clinking metal and rustling leather. 

"A bit of advice: keep your extra clothes bunched up under you and don't move around too much," Ralof muttered at her side. "It's slightly more comfortable that way." 

"Lucina," Katria said her name for what had to have been the twentieth time since they'd helped the Stormcloaks wash up and return to Markarth. "I know you wanted to rest, but maybe we could have started searching?" 

"Your Dwarven artifacts can wait: Lucina's exhausted, and I'm sure you are, too," Arya growled. 

Katria narrowed her eyes, and Lucina fought down the chuckle that threatened to escape her lips. Katria had taken great pains to correct Lucina every time she'd said 'Dwarven', reminding her that Dwemer was the correct name for the extinct race. 

A loud rattling noise of metal on stone drew the eyes of all in the barracks to the tower that served as the entrance, where a golden Sphere was trying to push its way past two very annoyed Stormcloak guards. 

"Bugger off! We don't need you in here, making enough noise to wake the dead!" One guard barked. 

The Sphere hissed, the empty eyes on its expressionless face never once leaving Lucina. She shook her head slowly, fighting down an embarrassed flush. 

"I...I think it's here because of me," she called out, striding towards the construct. 

The guards' heads swiveled towards her. "What makes you say that?" 

Lucina stopped before the automaton, that empty face still gazing at her. "They're controlled by the Dragonborn, and he ordered them to keep me safe wherever I went." 

"Seriously?" One guard snorted. "I wish he'd ordered them to follow me around." 

Lucina smiled, the embarrassed heat fading somewhat. "I can go elsewhere, if this Sphere is following me." 

"I'd argue, but we already have a difficult enough time trying to sleep on these damn beds," Ralof glowered at the Sphere. "That thing will just make it harder."  

"I understand," Lucina pushed past her unwanted escort and made her way up the circling staircase, her boots clicking against stone with every step. 

The loud, awkward clanking and hissing behind her was, no doubt, the poor Sphere attempting to do the same, and Lucina hesitated, wondering if she should give it a hand. 

"Keep going, lass! We'll push it up!" Ralof called up, and Lucina's lips curled into a smile of their own volition. 

She kept ascending until she pushed through the heavy golden doors out into the cold night residing over Markarth. Those swirling, shimmering lights filling the sky was something she'd never seen before, and the sight still awed her. 

It was so beautiful...she couldn't bring herself to tear her gaze away from it. And then came the clanking of stone on steel, followed by hissing, and Lucina turned to see poor Ralof shoving the Sphere out of the door. 

The machine rattled forward with a happy whirring noise, briefly spinning around before wheeling itself over to Lucina and setting itself by her feet. Ralof groaned as he lay prone on the floor, his breathing reduced to heavy wheezes. 

"That thing is heavier...than it looks," he gasped. 

Lucina's lips curved into an embarrassed smile. "My apologies...I didn't expect one of them to follow me down those stairs." 

Ralof gave a weary laugh. "I'm just glad it was just a Sphere and not one of those Centurions, lass." 

"A Centurion?" Lucina looked down at the markets, which had been cleaned and had the wreckage removed, where one of the massive golden Centurions was standing guard. "I don't think it would be able to get up here, let alone down those stairs." 

Why would Ralof suggest that? 

The Centurion straightened, arms stiffening at its side as its torso rotated all the way around before returning to its tireless vigil. 

"I wasn't serious, Lucina," Ralof muttered, stepping up to her side and stretching his arms. "Talos guard you, lass." 

Lucina nodded absently, still pondering how that massive machine could get into the tower as Ralof walked away. The Sphere rattled happily at her side, its golden body reflecting the beautiful light dancing across the skies. 

The noise the creature was making was starting to make her ears hurt, to be honest. 

"Are you going to follow me everywhere?" She asked it. "The noise you make is starting to grow irritating." 

The Sphere paused, the steam emanating from its body halting as it fell deathly silent. 

Lucina frowned. "Did you just...die?" 

The Sphere's round body rotated in one direction, then the other, as if shaking its head, not even making a sound. 

A cold spark trailed up Lucina's spine. "You can run without making a sound?" 

The Sphere rolled in one direction and then another, still utterly silent. Lucina shook her head slowly: maybe the Stormcloaks would let her back in the barracks, since the Sphere was no longer making noise? 

She turned and went down the stairs, startling Ralof at the bottom. 

"What? Did you get the thing to stay outside?" He asked, his eyes widening as the Sphere rolled into the room at Lucina's heels. "Wait, it's not making a sound!" 

"It isn't even making noise from hitting the ground," Katria was there immediately, crouching to study the construct. "The steam isn't flowing, but the core's still running without any issues... Magic, maybe?" 

"Who cares? I'm just glad we can sleep!" Ralof slumped upon one of the stone beds with a groan, several other Stormcloaks grunting assent or demanding silence. 

Lucina unbuckled Falchion and gently laid her beloved weapon by the nearest stone bed. She seated herself on the furs laid upon the stone in an attempt to soften it, the faint smell of oiled leather and metal mixed with musky body odor almost overwhelming her nostrils. The Sphere settled itself by the bedside, directly beside Falchion. Its presence was somehow... comforting, a metal protector that would prevent harm from reaching her in the night. 

Her body was shutting down even as she laid back on the stone, the pillow the softest part of the entire structure. The world was fading again, just as it had earlier, darkness creeping in closer and closer until Lucina succumbed to it. 

 Caesar remembered Helgen all too well: the town where Alduin saved his life from the butcher's block. It was in ruins now, the wooden homes and stone Imperial walls in shambles all around him. Bandits had overrun the ruins, but Caesar had little difficulty in putting them to the sword. 

Bandits were just scum with very little martial training, save for those who were actually deserters from the Legion or the Stormcloaks, but they were strong in their own ways, etching out a living in Skyrim's harsh landscape. Ultimately, they were weak: preying on those who could not defend themselves yet begging for mercy the moment an opponent got the better of them. 

Helgen became their graveyard, mixing with the ashes of those who had died to Alduin's fire so long ago. 

Caesar shook his head as he moved through the craggy mountain pass, his footsteps echoing in his head against the Imperial cobblestone road. At least this Dwemer armor was insulated, shielding him from the bitter chill that carried soft white flakes upon its invisible edge. His weapons were heavy on his body, but years of training and absorbing power from countless dragons had turned his body into a living instrument of war. 

To think that when he'd first drawn steel at Hadvar's side in the keep as it crumbled around them, he'd been scared shitless and could barely bring himself to cut down the Stormcloaks barring his way. Caesar had been trained in the art of battle, of course, but it had been a long time since he'd actually killed anyone. 

Now, however? He'd killed legions and waded through a river of blood from every creature and vagabond his homeland had to throw at him. Draugr were the exception, as they didn't bleed. Their blood had dried up centuries ago, with that damn dragon priest in Valthume being the only lich that had blood. Granted, that blood had been stored in bottles while he was still alive, but it was the only example Caesar could think of. 

"Halt!" A woman's accented voice made him pause in the road, fighting down a sigh as the familiar visage of a Stormcloak approached from the snow-dusted trees. "Oh, it's you, Dragonborn." 

"I'm just passing through to Riften," Caesar growled. 

The Stormcloak placed her hands on her hips, hand straying dangerously close to the steel-headed mace hanging from her waist. "Oh? To do what, I wonder?" 

"I make for the guild of vampire hunters by Stendarr's Beacon," Caesar answered. "The vampires have been making a nuisance of themselves, lately, and I must get rid of them before whatever they have planned goes into effect." 

The Stormcloak nodded slowly. "A group of Vigilants passed by not too long ago, stating that they were going to clear out a vampire den further up the pass. If you go up there, be careful." 

Caesar raised an eyebrow from underneath his helm: a Stormcloak was wishing him well? Granted, many of the self-proclaimed freedom fighters held him in high regard for slaying Alduin and freeing Sovngarde of his soul snare, but most of the blue fighters he came across were too busy cursing him for being an Imperial dog and a traitor to Skyrim. 

He wasn't even serving the Legion, either. 

"I will do so," Caesar murmured. "I've contracted Sanguinare Vampiris before, and I have no desire to do so again." 

The Stormcloak flinched. "By Talos... I shudder to think what would happen if you became a vampire." 

"Oh, I have no intention of ever becoming one of those bloodsucking demons," Caesar chuckled, shaking his head slowly. "By the way, I cleared the ruins of bandits. They had quite a surplus of supplies in what's left of the keep, so if your people are running low, I could send some Animunculi to guard the stores for you." 

The Stormcloak actually balked, stammering as she struggled to find a worthwhile answer. "T-that would be great, Dragonborn. Thank you!" 

Caesar nodded and drew upon his magicks, tearing open the fabrics of the world to draw forth half a dozen golden Spheres. The air filled with metallic rattling and hissing steam almost immediately, and his summons all looked to him for orders. 

"There is a ruined town to the west of here that is holding a supply store in what remains of its keep," Caesar began. "You are to locate those supplies and guard them until the Stormcloaks arrive to retrieve them. Kill every bandit that gets in your way, and once the Stormcloaks secure the supplies, set about on your patrols." 

The Spheres rotated about and rattled away back the way he'd come, their clanking and hissing fading into the background. 

"Thank you, Dragonborn," the Stormcloak sentry pounded a fist over her heart in salute. "Talos guide you." 

"And you as well," Caesar nodded as he returned the salute. "Farewell." 

He walked away, aware of the eyes of other Stormcloak sentries following his every move as he skirted the road passing their hidden camp. Caesar left them all behind and continued through the pass, the brushing of wind against his helmet filling his ears. 

Sounds of combat reached him after a few more minutes of walking: clashing steel, shouting, and the ominous humming of the sickeningly familiar Vampiric Drain spell. 

"Stendarr preserve us!" A male voice cried, followed by the sickening crunch of bone and a woman's scream. 

Caesar broke out into a run, his feet pounding the stone road as he rounded a serpentine turn and found the source of the fighting: the cave mouth leading into Haemar's Shame. 

"Damn it, Clavicus," he muttered, sprinting towards the two Vigilants of Stendarr who were surrounded by vampires clad in black or red scaled robes. Red light shone in the demons' hands, sapping the life from the Vigilants even as golden light flared around the duo in a vain effort to shield them. 

Caesar drew upon the Thu'um, picked his targets, and inhaled.  _"_ _Yol_ _Toor Shul!"_

His words were an inferno escaping his lips, the gout of flame shooting over the heads of the two surviving Vigilants and washing over the startled vampires. The creatures that weren't reduced to ash scattered with agonized screams, several of them collapsing as tongues of dragonfire licked up their bodies. 

The Vigilants, to their credit, didn't squander their opportunity: the duo shouted with renewed vigor as they plunged into the remainder of the vampires, maces shattering bone with every swing. By the time Caesar reached the cave mouth where the Daedric Prince Clavicus Vile hid a shrine, the vampires and their thralls had been reduced to ash and charred or broken corpses. 

"My thanks, Dragonborn!" One of the two Vigilants gasped as he slipped his mace back into the metal ring on his belt. "We tracked some vampires here and exterminated a good number before the rest overwhelmed us. We lost several of our own, but..." 

"I'm glad you are safe," Caesar could see a few dead Vigilants as he peered into the cave. "If you go inside, be wary: the Daedric Prince Clavicus Vile has a shrine located within it. He tried to trick me into working with him, once, but I think he came to regret how I turned the tables on him." 

The Vigilant grinned. "We already saw how you damaged his statue, Dragonborn. Thanks for making our work a bit easier." 

Caesar nodded. "Certainly, and a bit of advice for dealing with Daedra: their power on Nirn is limited to their spheres of influence, meaning they cannot interact with Mundus in a physical form unless they have a shrine or anything else containing their blessing. People are easy to influence, but the physical world is not." 

"Aye, we'll keep that in mind," the other Vigilant nodded. 

Caesar excused himself and walked away, striding in silence through the mountains. Before long, the pass cave way to the woods of the Rift, signaling that he was closer to his goal. At least he wasn't going through the lowlands infested with geysers and bears; he ran into the damn beasts every few moments in that steam-filled hell. 

Caesar strode forward, continuing to follow the path that lay before him. If he kept going on it, it would take him to Ivarstead, so he'd have to either take the fork to Riften or just cut through the wilds to save time, following the river. 

It was hardly a contest: Caesar strode on, his boots sinking into the earth as he veered off the road. His strides were long and unwavering despite how far he'd already marched, powerful muscles carrying him over the land as it continued to bathe in the ethereal light of the borealis. Just a little longer... perhaps it was time to cheat a little. 

_"_ _Wuld_ _Nah Kest!"_


	9. Rising Dawn

_"Nah Kest!"_ The blur that had become the world due to his constant Shouting snapped back into focus the moment his frenzied chant came to an end. 

As did the rocky cliff face he was currently rocketing towards. 

"By Aka-" were the only words Caesar got out before his armored body slammed into stone, his entire world bending and cracking with the shrieking of steel on the cliff face. 

The impact smashed his face against his faceplate, sending hot needles through his flesh and bone as the rest of his body screamed in agony. 

"Gods damn it," Caesar pushed through the pain as his dragon blood began mending his injuries, peeling his armored body off the cliff and stumbling backwards. 

This was what he deserved for attempting to abuse Whirlwind Sprint. 

As soon as the world stopped spinning and his body stopped screaming in pain, he would take a moment to look around. Caesar shook his head slowly as the blur of the Rift began to solidify around him, still bathed in the light of the dancing borealis. 

Why had this seemed like such a good idea a couple hours ago? Granted, he'd been lucky to avoid the many trees and wildlife as he'd made his way towards Riften on the breath of his Whirlwind Sprint, and now it appeared his luck had run out. 

Let/s see... Caesar looked around, immediately finding the great lake dominating Riften's trade, along with that bee farm, Goldenglow. He was close, having run into one of the many stone faces lining the Rift. At least his armor was barely scratched. 

It was damn annoying trying to keep it repaired, especially when the damn thing required a specific blend of silver, steel, and Dwemer metals just to mend minor dents and scratches. 

Caesar glanced up at the rising moon, glanced in Riften's direction across the water, and sighed. His head still pounded, with slight nausea still plaguing him whenever he made his sore legs move. 

"I suppose it's better than nothing," he muttered, wincing as his raw throat ached. 

He'd been Shouting far too much, lately, and that Whirlwind Sprint chant hadn't helped in the slightest. Perhaps he could find something in the city before he left for Fort Dawnguard.

Caesar made his way down the cobblestone path, his feet clicking against the stone with each step as he drew closer and closer to the city now firmly in the grasp of a greedy, self-serving bitch. Maven Black-Briar... her name alone was enough to make his blood curdle with rage. 

He much preferred having the honorable Laila Law-Giver on Riften's throne, but this was the price he had to pay in order to slay Alduin. Caesar would have to visit Windhelm, soon, and beg for his former Jarl's forgiveness. 

She had to have felt so betrayed... learning that her own Thane had given- extremely reluctantly, by the way- Riften to the Empire in exchange for Stormcloak control over Markarth. Why he'd even bothered to agree to Ulfric's asinine demands was beyond him: the man had used the Greybeards to carve up Skyrim as if it were little more than a sweet roll rather than people whose lives were being hammered by every decision that summit had made. 

Granted, Caesar had been a Thane of Markarth, as well, so Jarl Igmund had to share Laila's sentiments on their traitor of a hero...

"Halt!" An Imperial soldier standing in the torchlight of the gate into Riften raised a hand, the other laying upon his shield. "Who goes there?" 

"Drake Caesar," Caesar rumbled, stepping into the light given off of the borealis and the torches. "May I enter the city?" 

The guard jolted, his eyes widening. "Dragonborn! My apologies: I'll open the gate!" 

The soldier turned, pushing the door bar off of its hitch and shoving the large wooden gate open. 

"Thank you. Has there been any trouble as of late?" Caesar paused by the soldier: this would be a good time to get some information, but Imperial soldiers weren't prone to gossip as much as the regular city guards, but perhaps he'd get lucky? 

The soldier shook his head. "The city still stinks of Stormcloak, but Jarl Black-Briar has taken power in relative peace. There has been some mild skirmishing around Shor's Stone and the border to Windhelm, but nothing we couldn't contain." 

Nothing on the Thieves Guild, which had to be running rampant now that their benefactor was running the show rather than lying to Laila's face about driving the vermin out of the city for good. Perhaps it would be good to grab some concrete proof and present it to Laila as penance for when he visited her? 

"I see," Caesar nodded his thanks, instead. "Thank you for the news: I'll be careful if my travels take me that way." 

The Imperial nodded, his young face bereft of any facial hair as he grinned a yellow toothed grin. "Certainly, Dovahkiin! Stay safe!" 

Caesar passed into Riften near the orphanage and the graveyard, his eyes narrowing as he took several careful steps forward. That mausoleum was a hidden door to the Thieves' Guild, if those people he'd seen disappearing into it were any indication, and he'd have to be careful when moving through the streets at night. 

He strode down the street, metal clicking against stone, the heavy kilt adorning his legs swishing and clinking softly with each step he took. The breeze carried the faint vestiges of the market upon it, and Caesar briefly wondered how poor Brand-Shei was faring. Had he been released from the prisons, yet, or was he still wallowing in those cages alongside Maven's filth of a son? 

Caesar shook his head: he could worry about the Dark Elf later, when he wasn't trying to put an end to this damn vampire menace. He passed by the Jarl's palace, nodding to the soldiers standing guard by the doors below and upon the terrace. The men and women looked tired, but the sharp gleam in their eyes that sparked upon his appearance made them stand a bit taller. 

"Are you well, Dragonborn?" One soldier asked, his companion giving him a side-eyed warning glare. 

"I am, thank you," Caesar slowed his pace. "Have your posts been demanding much of you as of late?" 

"Not much aside from standing around looking dangerous," another muttered. "The only thing we can do is train whenever we're not on duty. Damn thieves have been hitting the stalls and shops like mad, however. I don't know how the damn Stormcloaks kept them under control." 

Oh, how tempting it was to just tell them that Maven was dealing in the guild, but the bitch would have him thrown into jail in a heartbeat. Well, she could try, anyhow. 

"I do now know, either," Caesar shrugged. "A good night to all of you." 

"And you, Dragonborn." 

He crossed over the bridge to the markets, eyes hidden in shadows watching his every move. Caesar hoped some thief would be stupid enough to try to steal from him: it would give him the opportunity to test out those tiny explosives he'd found in Blackreach. Caesar smirked to himself as he took out the satchel of explosives and hung them by his belt, mimicking a coin purse. Here's to hoping! 

He strode through the plaza hosting the market, making his way towards the Bee and Barb when a smooth, familiar voice made him pause. 

"You're brave to show your face here after betraying us, lad," Brynjolf was leaning against a low stone wall, ignoring the beggar sleeping behind him. "Framing Brand-Shei to get into our good graces and then using your own coin to 'collect' the debts of Bersi, Keerava, and Haelga? And then you had to spoil the fun by reporting it, and Maven's failures, to Laila, who launched a surprise raid on us and nearly killed Vex." 

"A pity the guards didn't kill more of you," Caesar answered, not glancing the thief's way. "Any familiar faces among the dead before the rest of you ran like the weaklings you are?"

Brynjolf loosed a low growl, reaching for the daggers tucked into his belt before he swore softly. "Nice try, lad. I won't be baited by the likes of you." 

"Again, you mean?" It was so damn hard to keep his voice from betraying the smile that had formed on his lips, but Caesar somehow managed. 

"You could have made a lot of coin with us, you know, but you squandered that opportunity." 

"What opportunity?" Caesar turned his helm towards the man, then, noting with satisfaction how the man hesitated at the sight of the metal Dwemer face leering at him. "Your sorry excuse of a guild is falling apart, kept alive solely so you can be slaves to Maven Black-Briar. You are thieves, skulking in shadows and pilfering from citizens who must work day in and day out to make a living." 

Brynjolf smirked. "We're not as bad off as you think, lad. Thanks to Maven taking the throne- which was your doing, I might add- we've been swimming in more gold than we've had in years." 

"I heard Goldenglow and Honningbrew had some... issues lately," Caesar shrugged. "The Guild?" 

Brynjolf shrugged, although a faint flicker of annoyance crossed his features. "You don't need to know, lad: you aren't one of us. And don't you have a vampire problem to be dealing with?" 

Information was all these fools were good for, it seemed, aside from making empty promises. 

"I do, so what do you want?" Caesar kept his instincts ready, his voice ready to launch as he folded his arms before his chest. 

"Word is there's a Stormcloak woman that you've become rather interested in, lad," Brynjolf threw those words out as easily as one would exhale. "Blue-haired lass sporting gear from another kingdom, was it?" 

Caesar grunted. "What of it?" 

"How much coin do you think we could net if we persuaded her to accept some company in her little search for Aetherium?" 

Oh, so this was how they were going to play? Very well. 

Caesar was about the same height as the Nord thief, but his armor gave him an extra point or two in intimidation as he stepped closer to Brynjolf and glared down at him. 

"And how long do you think your guild will last if I send an army of Animunculi down into the Ragged Flagon while keeping that 'secret entrance' of yours in the graveyard flanked by a Centurion or two?" Caesar growled, his lips curling into a sneer as the color drained from Brynjolf's face. 

The thief took a hesitant step back, nearly trodding upon the sleeping Sniff. "You wouldn't dare. Not when you answer to Maven!" 

"I was a Thane under Laila, not Maven," Caesar corrected in a low growl. "I serve no one in the Rift now."

Brynjolf sidestepped, carefully putting distance between himself and the now snoring Sniff. "You try it, lad, and we'll take your little girl." 

A short, harsh bark escaped Caesar at that desperate threat. "How? She will be followed every step of her journey by my Animunculi, which have orders to kill anyone who tries to harm her. I gave them some leeway regarding Imperial and Stormcloak patrols, true, but even if one of your lackeys gets to her, they'll become a pincushion if she doesn't kill them, herself, first." 

Caesar loomed closer to Brynjolf, whose silver tongue seemed to have deserted him as he shrank back a step. "And my Animunculi rarely miss their targets." 

He turned and walked away, fully aware that Sniff had been faking sleep to hear their entire conversation. The beggar was of no consequence. 

Caesar entered the Bee and Barb, the warmth of the crackling hearth and the smell of roasted meat immediately greeting him as he carefully pushed the door open and closed it behind him. 

"Ah, Caesar!" Keerava and Talon-Jei were waiting with smiles, the two Argonians both wearing brand new wedding bands upon their hands. 

"I see you two made it official!" Caesar chuckled as he strode in, reaching up and removing his helmet. "Congratulations!" 

Talon-Jei laughed as he pulled a stool out at the bar while Keerava set out a mug of ale. "It's all thanks to you, my friend! If you hadn't been willing to give me those flawless amethysts, I never would have been able to complete the band." 

"Caesar!" Mjoll the Lioness was there as well, her grin infectious as she strode over and pounded a powerful hand upon Caesar's armored shoulder. "It's good to see you, my friend!" 

Aerin was seated at the table she'd left, a polite smile on his face despite the irritation in his eyes. Several dock workers and fishers had glanced up at Caesar's entrance, grins forming on their own wizened faces as Caesar seated himself upon the stool Talon-Jei had pulled out. The thing creaked heavily under the weight, but he lifted himself slightly with his feet to relieve it. 

"It is good to see all of you as well," he returned the greeting and placed his helmet on the bar beside the mug Keerava had set out. "Mjoll, how have things been since Maven took power?" 

The Nord's face darkened and the warmth seemed to dim. "Not great, Caesar. The Thieves' Guild has been running rampant without check, and these new guards that Maven's friends in Cyrodiil paid for have been doing nothing to stop it." 

"Those bastards broke into my safe and took my deed to Maven, who's been demanding extra tax or she'll have her Meadery expand a little further," Bersi Honey-Hand griped over a flagon of ale. 

"As she has in Whiterun?" One of the fishers added. "The bitch has been draining the entire city dry while expanding her damn guild across Skyrim." 

"And now that she's in control, that bastard Sibbi's been let loose, too," Mjoll spat, clenching her fist tightly. 

Caesar's head jerked towards her. "Sibbi's been released?" 

"Aye: the bastard's already attempted to take my daughter in an attempt to extort more gold from my already drained coffers," one of the dock workers groaned. "My girl's refusing to leave the side of the nearest guardsmen for fear that Sibbi's going to snatch her!" 

Hot rage surged through Caesar's chest. "Did me lying to him about Lynly not sate the bastard?" 

"That woman that he's trying to get into Hammerfell for?" Mjoll asked, a snort escaping her lips. "You've made him waste Maven's gold on a lie?" 

Several of the other patrons guffawed, but the icy Sapphire, lurking in her corner, only glared at Caesar. He shot her a glare of his own, conveying a silent warning as his pupils shrank into draconic slits. 

"I have," he answered Mjoll, reaching for his helmet before hesitating as a brilliant idea formed in his head.

"Are you leaving already?" Keerava asked, glancing at the untouched ale she'd set out for him. 

Caesar quickly took the drink and downed it in one swig, the shock of the liquid pouring down his sore throat sending needles through his senses. He placed several gold coins on the bar, ignoring Keerava's raised eyebrow as she made to return the money. 

"Keep it, you have family on a farm who could use it, do you not?" He spoke softly so Sapphire wouldn't overhear. "And don't worry, I took care of the guild's ledger: it has that farm put on the other end of the continent from where it really is. Your family is safe." 

Keerava's worried expression melted into relief as she took the gold with a nod of thanks. 

"You have a plan, Caesar," Mjoll murmured as she sat at his side, leaning in closer. "What is it?" 

Caesar gave her a wicked grin. "Oh, all I have to do is somehow get a vampire to bite Sibbi, and the vampire hunters I'm looking to join may yet give me a solution." 

Mjoll's eyes widened. "You cannot be serious!" 

Even Keerava choked, drawing a concerned eye from her mate. 

"If I join the Dawnguard and Sibbi becomes a vampire, it would be my sworn duty to exterminate him," Caesar explained softly. "If he dies in any other way, save for maybe being murdered by bandits or mauled by a bear, then Maven will take it out on everyone here. I cannot let that swine terrorize the honest people of Riften for any longer, and as much as I'd love to just summon an army of Animunculi into the Jarl's palace, I do not want to make enemies of the Imperial Legion." 

"Aren't you allied with the Legion against the Stormcloaks?" Mjoll asked. 

"No: as a condition to the treaty that gave the Stormcloaks Markarth and the Empire Riften, I cannot join the war on either side," Caesar shook his head. "If I go against Skyrim's laws and the wishes of my masters, then what kind of protector does that make me?" 

"But if Sibbi turns into a vampire and you're a sworn vampire hunter..." Mjoll chuckled softly, "You'd be abiding by the laws and striking a blow against Maven. But, what about the rest of the Thieves' Guild? Surely you'd be able to destroy them?"

Caesar sighed, glaring down at his silvery helmet at the rough reflection shining back at him. "Believe me: I want nothing more than to exterminate those vermin, but my own ignorance of their reach has allowed them to expand in a fashion where even if I destroy their main hub, their guild will just expand and find a new home elsewhere." 

"So, you cannot act just yet," Mjoll frowned. "This is a greater problem than I had anticipated..."

"It is, but once I get the full picture of their power, I will bring an entire Animunculi army to bear against every last one of them," Caesar vowed, pushing himself to rise. "The shadows will not hide them forever, I can promise you that." 

"But... what if Maven sends assassins from the Dark Brotherhood after you?" A fisherman asked with wide eyes. 

Caesar smirked at the man. "Then they can die like all the others she's sent to kill me." 

Hushed oaths and chuckles escaped the clientele and Mjoll slammed another powerful hand on Caesar's back. 

"And what if she sends an assassin after one of us?" Aerin spoke up in a tight voice, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room, save for the absent Sapphire. "We who cannot fight as well as the storied Dragonborn, savior of Skyrim and our very souls?" 

Mjoll clenched her beloved Grimsever tightly. "I will not allow that! I might not be as powerful as Caesar, but I will not fall to a common assassin!" 

"You cannot protect everyone, Mjoll!" Aerin snapped. "No matter what you do, Maven is just too damn powerful!" 

"The only power she holds is through gold and shadows," Caesar rumbled as he placed his helmet over his head. "The moment the weak try to play with power they have not earned, everything they build will come crashing down around them. I must depart, but I will not allow Maven to harm anyone here."

"How?"

"Do you know those runes I asked to plant in your homes?" Caesar glanced around, seeing nods from all present, except for Bersi, who just frowned. "Should anyone with any fatal intentions enter the threshold, such as a plan to assassinate the occupant, then the magic from the runes will spawn Animunculi to target the interloper." 

"Truly?" Mjoll gasped. "How is that possible?" 

Caesar shrugged. "Dwemer Animunculi aren't just metal and steam, you know: temporal magicks that bend the nature of space and time give them form along with the Dwemer's genius workmanship, which is part of the reason they function so well even now. I can summon them by drawing upon the temporal magicks that animate them, that bend space and time around them, and I used that magic to create runes with the same potency." 

 "So the same magic that allows you to summon and control them is what powers those runes?" Talon-Jei repeated slowly. 

"Yes. If anyone matching the set criteria sets foot on those runes, the Animunculi will spawn and slay the intruder before the rune resets itself for further use," Caesar rose. "You will be safe." 

"Good luck with the Dawnguard," Mjoll offered him a hand, which he took. 

Her tight grip always surprised him with just her sheer strength, but that was one of the things he admired about the fierce warrior woman. "Thank you. Good luck to all of you here." 

Mutters of assent and gratitude followed him as he made for the door, but Bersi stopped him. "Um, Caesar, could I ask a favor of you?" 

"You want me to paint a rune this time?" He guessed as he turned to the shop owner, who nodded sheepishly. "Of course, my friend. I am sorry that I didn't do so last time, regardless, but I didn't want to defy your wishes." 

Bersi smiled guiltily. "I should have listened to you, then maybe I'd still have my deed." 

Right... damn that Black-Briar bitch. That entire damn family was rotten, save for the curious Ingun, who actually wasn't as rotten or corrupt as the rest of her kin. 

"How much extra tax is Maven demanding?" Caesar asked as he and Bersi strode out into the cool night, their strides carrying them over to the Pawned Prawn. 

"A hundred septims," Bersi growled as he drew out a key and unlocked the door with a metallic clunk. "Where do you need this rune to be?" 

Caesar glanced inside the shop, which only had one door and one window. "Right in the middle should be fine, since there's no other way in or out." 

He raised his hand, drawing upon the Dwemer magic resonating within his soul, and chanted softly under his breath. Golden light began to form upon the floorboards, expanding and linking together to form an archaic pattern that faded into an arcane circle once the entirety of the rune was complete. 

"There we go," Caesar nodded with satisfaction at the rune. "If anyone enters the shop with plans to rob it or kill you, then that poor intruder will find themselves in the sights of a Dwemer Sphere."

Bersi sighed heavily, slumping as an unseen weight left his shoulders. "Thank you, Caesar. The gods were truly kind to bring you here." 

Caesar fought down a wince at that but nodded. "I still need to do one for your home, do I not?" 

The process was repeated once Bersi locked up shop and led Caesar down to the living quarters on the river, and the Dragonborn strode out of the city's front gates as he glanced up at the risen moon. 

The night was still young and the journey would be demanding, but he had conquered far worse. Caesar nodded to the silver-clad Imperial guards and tromped into the forests of the Rift, paralleling the great stone walls of Riften as his feet pounded the soft ground. 

Caesar glanced down at his belt, where the pouch of miniature Dwemer explosives had been resting, and smirked at the empty space looking up at him. 

An explosion shook the city, drawing alarmed shouts from civilians and guards alike as the bright burst of flame and light flared, followed by smoke and more screams. 

"Idiots," Caesar muttered as he marched on. 

"Okay, deep breaths, Agmaer!" Agmaer murmured softly to himself as he paced back and forth on the banks of a river residing in the canyon where the Dawnguard made their home. "You can do this!"

He rehearsed his lines again, picturing the man he thought to be Isran until his courage wilted once more. 

"Damn it all," Agmaer muttered, hanging his head in shame. 

He was a farm boy, not a warrior, damn it! Isran probably wouldn't even take him...

Leaves crunched behind him and Agmaer spun. A newcomer? Maybe if he was in someone else's company, his nerves wouldn't be so bad!

The silver-clad warrior that emerged from the forest path made Agmaer's words of greeting die in his throat, the fierce visage of his crested helmet peering into the farm boy's very soul. 

"Hello, friend!" Agmaer finally blurted out. "Are you here to join the Dawnguard as well?"

"I am," the warrior's voice was a calm baritone, the friendliness in his tone making Agmaer's muscles relax immediately. "Would you like some company in going up to the fort?" 

Oh, thank the gods!

Agmaer nodded, a genuine smile forming on his lips. "I would!" 

The towering warrior fell into step at his side as the duo marched along the path, the swords strapped to his side clinking against his unusual armor. 

"You've probably killed lots of vampires, huh?" Agmaer commented as he glanced at the shining surface of his companion's armor. "I'm sure Isran will sign you right up. Not so sure about me... I hope so." 

"You can learn," the warrior said gently. "Farmer, I'm guessing?" 

Agmaer nodded, his nerves rising even further at the admission. 

"You are clearly strong, so that will make it easier to learn how to wield a proper weapon the way a soldier can." 

The canyon path widened and the warrior paused in his speech as a massive stone-walled fortress bristling with battlements and towers appeared, banners depicting a sun fluttering in the faint breeze. 

"There it is," Agmaer commented, hoping his companion didn't find him annoying. "Fort Dawnguard. Bigger than I thought." 

"Larger than I'd anticipated, as well," the warrior mused, and one thing became glaringly clear as the two got closer to the fort.

"Where is everybody? The place seems almost deserted," Agmaer frowned as they passed by a small wall comprised of sharpened wooden stakes, emblazoned with another Dawnguard banner. 

They found two Dawnguard clad in heavy plate practicing with crossbows near the walls, but that was it until the great gates of Fort Dawnguard loomed before the duo, where a third man awaited. 

"I guess this is it," Agmaer murmured as the third Dawnguard raised his hand in greeting. "Wish me luck." 

"Here to join up?" The Dawnguard called out. "Go on inside, let Isran have a look at you." 

The man pushed open the massive oaken gates, making them rumble as they swung inwards on rusted hinges. Stale, musty air rushed forth from within the great towering halls inside the fort, making Agmaer's lungs expel the taint with haggard coughing. 

The silver warrior was unfazed as he strode inside, Agmaer hurrying after him while attempting to keep his lungs cleared of the grit. Cobwebs were everywhere on the first floor and the upper balcony lining the middle rotunda of the entrance hall, the lone Dawnguard banner pocketed by holes, no doubt eaten through by insects. 

Two men were standing in the middle of the rotunda: a balding, dark skinned Dawnguard with a stern face marked with scars and a massive warhammer on his back, the other a Vigilant of Stendarr with impressive sideburns. 

"Now that you've stirred the vampires against you, you come begging for my protection?" The man who could only be Isran growled. "I took my leave of the Vigilants long ago, Tolan." 

"Isran, the Vigilants are under attack everywhere, the vampires are too much for us to handle!" The Vigilant snapped. 

The two continued bickering as Agmaer stood by the entrance hall, fidgeting. He didn't want to interrupt, but at the same time, he wasn't sure if this was something he should be listening to. 

The silver warrior had stridden closer, however, not fearing Isran's annoyed glare as he stood a bit behind the Vigilant, Tolan. 

"And who are you?" Isran growled as the argument finally wrapped up, his eyes on the silver warrior. 

"Drake Caesar," the man rumbled, and Agmaer's jaw dropped. "I heard you were looking for vampire hunters." 

Isran and Tolan balked, eyes wide as they stared at the man who had just claimed ot be the legendary Dragonborn. 

"The Dragonborn, huh?" Isran chuckled. "A good story, boy, but I don't need legends. I need vampire hunters, so don't pretend to be someone you're not just to get in." 

In response, the self-proclaimed Dragonborn straightened, his shoulders tensing as the air almost seemed to quiver around him. 

 _"_ _Zu_ _n_ _Haal_ _Viik_ _!"_ The three words shook Fort Dawnguard to its very core, a blaring shockwave of pure power ripping the warhammers from Isran and Tolan both and throwing them to the ground. 

"Hey! What was that!" The Dawnguard who'd been by the door dashed inside, his axe in his hands as he skidded to a halt. 

"That," Isran chuckled as his voice boomed. "Was the sound of the vampires' doom! The Dragonborn, himself, has come to take the fight to those disgusting bloodsuckers!" 

"The Dragonborn?" Agmaer gasped, barely able to push those words out of his mouth.

To think that his companion had been Skyrim's mightiest hero! And he said that he believed Agmaer could become a strong warrior! 

"Tolan!" Isran barked, startling everyone. "What was that cave you said the vampires were poking in around? Dimhollow?" 

Tolan nodded. "Dimhollow crypt, aye. Brother Aldvald was adamant in that it held some significance to the vampires, and we didn't listen to him any more than we listened to Isran. He was at the Hall when it was attacked..." 

"Go to Dimhollow Crypt and find what the vampires are so desperately seeking," Isran nodded. "welcome to the Dawnguard, Dragonborn." 

"I'm going as well, perhaps I can be of some small assistance," Tolan walked away before Isran could protest. 

"I'll try to keep the fool alive," Caesar grunted as he turned to follow the Vigilant, his powerful gaze resting on Agmaer. "Good luck, my friend." 

Friend?! Agmaer stared after the Dragonborn as he strode after Tolan, vanishing from sight after a few moments. 

"Who are you, boy?" Isran asked, making Agmaer freeze. 

"U-um, Agmaer, sir!" 

Talos give me strength!


	10. Shard Collecting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait; my work has been taking up almost all my time and my will to write. I have no desire to delay the next chapter so long. Thank you for your patience.

"Hey, Lucina, you were saying you came from another world?" Katria groaned after popping her spine for about the tenth time in the hours that had passed since they'd awoken from fitful slumber. 

Lucina nodded, blinking bleary eyes and wondering why the people of Skyrim didn't just drink water that had been purified through magical means or from the swift-flowing rivers veining the countryside. It was always ale, mead, or beer with them...

The Stormcloaks reeked of the drinks almost constantly and Lucina was glad to escape it. The crisp, almost flowery air of the Reach was much more favorable. 

"I had to travel back in time using the power of Naga, the divine dragon, in order to prevent my world from being destroyed by the Fell Dragon Grima," Lucina didn't exactly feel up to recounting her full tale so early in the morning, especially with her body still aching from those accursed stone beds. "My parents and almost everyone I'd known had been killed trying to fight against the end of the world, until it was just myself, the children of my father's Shepherds, and whatever survivors cropped up from armies here and there." 

Katria winced. "Gods, that sounds like a hell on earth if I've ever heard of one." 

Grim visions flickered across Lucina's mind, making her shudder. "It was. In my future, the Fell Dragon and his undead minions laid waste to everything, reducing humanity's safe holdings until none remained. We were on the brink of extinction when Naga sent myself and my comrades back in time." 

"Undead minions?" Katria frowned, munching on a loaf of bread smeared with butter. "Seeing the Draugr must have brought up some unpleasant memories, huh?" 

"They did," Lucina nodded. "But I do have many happier memories with the family that I met in the past."

Katria chuckled. "They must have been so shocked, seeing the future version of their daughter." 

Lucina couldn't stop her own chuckle. "They were, but my parents were overjoyed to meet me despite everything. I traveled with them and fought against the forces that would bring that timeline to ruin, and we won." 

But at the cost of her father's dearest friend, a man that Lucina had grown rather fond of. Robin... was this the only path open to you? Did you have to sacrifice yourself?

"You defeated Grima?" Katria asked, stumbling over a rock and cursing as she dropped her bread. 

"Thanks to the brilliant heroism of our Grandmaster, Robin," Lucina nodded. "He... sacrificed himself to permanently destroy the monster." 

"Ah," Katria murmured. 

They walked in silence, the brisk morning air filling Lucina's lungs with every inhale and shocking her awake. Her muscles were still a bit sore, but Arya had given her a poultice that she said would help with the stiffness before Lucina had bid farewell to the Stormcloak. 

"Shame you didn't have Caesar with you," Katria spoke up after a while of silence. "He's a one-man army whose very purpose is to kill dragons." 

Lucina shrugged. "I am not so certain he would have fared very well against Grima: the Fell Dragon could only be destroyed by his own blood." 

"Caesar destroyed Alduin, the World Eater," Katria pointed out. "Firstborn of the dragon god of time and by all rights the mightiest creature to ever exist. I mean, Alduin had the power to destroy and devour entire worlds, Lucina! His duty was to eradicate the failed worlds created by the Divines, which he did until they created Nirn." 

Lucina shuddered at the thought of a dragon devouring the world, piece by piece, and wondered just how massive that monster had to have been. 

"And Caesar's duty was to destroy him," Lucina murmured, recalling what Caesar had spoken of, earlier. "Which is why he's so powerful." 

"Yup," Katria nodded. "I'd hate to be on the receiving end of his power and Dwemer army." 

"Agreed," Lucina murmured. 

"Do you get the feeling that we're being watched?" Katria asked after several minutes of silence. 

Lucina frowned, noticing that the Sphere that had guarded her all night was absent. "There aren't any Anima...Animuc..."

"Animunculi?" Katria provided. 

"Yes," Lucina nodded gratefully. "None of them are following me around like they were earlier." 

Katria looked around at the craggy countryside. "Oh, I'm sure they're out there somewhere. Caesar gave them strict orders, after all, to keep an eye on you. Maybe the ones following us are modified like the Sphere that you brought with you? The one that ran in almost utter silence?" 

"Perhaps," Lucina nodded absently, her thoughts turning to the wayward Dragonborn. "I hope he doesn't have too many issues in dealing with these vampires." 

Katria snorted. "Please, the second he finds out where they're coming from, those monsters are doomed." 

They continued following the paths north, the sun rising and warming the air as the two women marched. Lucina was glad for all the time she'd spent on the move with her father's army, her legs strong and unyielding as she traversed the rough, cave lined roads of the Reach.

"Gods, and I thought I was travel ready," Katria groaned after what felt like an eternity of silence. "My legs are killing me and you don't seem fazed at all!" 

Lucina glanced over at her companion and found the woman leaning on a tree stump, massaging her thighs and calves. "Are you okay? I'm sorry I didn't notice sooner."

Katria waved a hand dismissively. "It's not your fault I've spoiled myself with carriages and horses thus far." 

Lucina fought back a laugh and glanced at the nearby river, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of smoke rising into the sky. "What happened over there?" 

"Over where? Lucina?" 

She dashed towards the smoke, ignoring Katria's surprised shouts, and skidded to a halt overlooking the remains of a battlefield. The bridge crossing the river was splashed scarlet and covered with corpses of silver Imperials and blue Stormcloaks, palisades of sharpened stakes erected on both sides of the debacle as torn banners fluttered in the breeze. 

Small wooden boats were abandoned on the river, some carrying corpses, some blazing as flames consumed them. 

"Lucina! What's- Oh..." Katria was breathing heavily as she rushed up to Lucina's side. "Looks like some Imperials tried to push into Stormcloak territory." 

Lucina tried to make sense of who had emerged victorious as she gazed at the way the corpses were arrayed, but it was impossible to tell. The corpses were strewn about all over, with no cohesion concerning battle lines or tactics. 

"Who do you think won this?" She murmured, glancing apprehensively at the high cliffs towering above them. 

"Hard to say, but I'm surprised we didn't come across looters," Katria unslung her bow, Zephyr, and casually nocked an arrow onto the thick cord that served as its string. "Be on guard, Lucina: we have to pass through this to go further north, and then we'll be off the main roads." 

Lucina hurried to unsheathe Falchion, the weight of the divine blade in her hands a balm to the heaviness the air had taken. 

The duo moved through the hazy, smoky air, Lucina's eyes burning and stinging from the noxious darkness. Lucina stepped carefully over more bodies that emerged in her path, gazing down upon the empty faces out of habit; perhaps some would still be alive? 

"This way," Katria's voice was strangely disembodied in the haze, the adventurer's bow moving constantly as she looked warily around. 

Lucina hurried to follow her, the stench of death and burned flesh unearthing more unpleasant memories from the darkness of her own time. 

Ylisstol in flames, hordes of Risen razing everything in their path as Grima bore down upon the palace, prepared to put an end to humanity's final, pitiful struggle.  

“Lucina, over here!” again came Katria’s voice, lifting Lucina’s gaze from a young Stormcloak woman who was staring sightlessly up at the sky, her blue cuirass ripped open and matted with dried gore. 

The adventurer was waving from the edge of the battlefield, plucking arrows from the ground and examining them before sticking the usable ones into her own quiver. Lucina hurried over to her, a weight lifting from her heart as the air cleared despite the stench still lingering on the wind. 

“I’m glad there weren’t any looters,” Katria commented as she frowned at a bloody arrow head. “They’re not exactly tolerant of wanderers happening upon their scores.” 

Rage bristled through Lucina as she frowned at Katria. “People will loot battlefields and murder anyone who happens to cross their paths?” 

“Anyone,” Katria replied with a bitter nod. “Even unarmed farmers fleeing from the battles or from dragons.” 

Such depravity! To murder unarmed civilians!

Katria must have sensed Lucina’s rage, for a wary expression crossed her features as she took a step away that was too casual to be anything but calculated. “If we see any, they won’t stand a chance against the two of us.” 

Lucina fought down the hot anger and painted a smile onto her lips. “My apologies. Shall we be off?” 

“No harm done,” Katria turned and strode further up the path, forcing Lucina to hurry after her. 

The two women didn’t relax their vigilance until the battlefield was far behind and the air no longer smelled of blood and steel. 

“We’re going to veer off here,” Katria broke their tense silence, throwing her bow over her shoulder and gesturing at the rocky lands breaking away from the cobbled road. “This will take us near Bthardamz and where the shard will hopefully be.” 

Lucina slid Falchion back into its scabbard, leather scraping softly as sharpened steel nestled within it. “Do you think we’ll run into any trouble obtaining it?” 

“I don’t think so,” Katria answered with a chuckle. “If Caesar’s right and these shards are all in Dwemer ruins, then he’ll have those shards completely surrounded by Animunculi.” 

“Why doesn’t he just have those metal things just bring the pieces together for us?” Lucina wondered as the thought hit her. “If he knew where the shards were thanks to his ancient memories, then wouldn’t it make the most sense for that course of action to be best?” 

“Huh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Katria frowned. 

Gravel crunched, drawing their conversation to a grinding halt. Lucina once again took ahold of Falchion’s hilt. 

“Ah, you there, citizen!” A rough voice called out from further up the Reach, where a green-skinned warrior with fangs jutting out his lower lip was waiting, clad in silver Imperial armor with a massive battleaxe on his back. “You’re interfering with Imperial business, yeah, so you’ve gotta pay a fee of, say, a hundred gold. Pay up, citizen!” 

An orc, Lucina realized; she’d met Ghorza and Moth in Markarth and had thought them to be quite impressive smiths. 

“Looter,” Katria hissed. “Idiot didn’t even try to conceal the bodies he took that armor off of.” 

Lucina glanced past the grinning orc and saw a gutted man lying on the ground behind him, stripped down to his loincloth with an Imperial gladius still at the side of his body. 

“Not going to pay up, citizen?” the orc sneered, more rustling alerting Lucina to two more presences in the craggy outcroppings. “Oh well, we’ll just take everything you’ve got!” 

A dark elf in Imperial leathers and a crested metal helmet emerged from his hiding place, hands crackling with electricity as a woman with two daggers, dressed in full leather Imperial armor, leaped out from a bush. 

To think that Lucina hadn’t had the sense to check their surroundings!

Her internal curses faded the moment familiar mechanical snapping echoed through the forest, the looters’ battle cries turning into strangled yelps as burning bolts slammed into their necks. 

“Huh, looks like we were closer than I thought,” Katria remarked, releasing her nerves with a heavy sigh as golden Dwemer Spheres rolled out of their hiding spots, wristbows primed with more shots.

Lucina looked in the direction that the automatons had come from and saw, among the crags and hills, a tower of Dwemer make rising far off in the distance. “Is that the place we were headed for?” 

“Yup!” Katria stooped over the looters’ bodies, snatching coin purses from their waists and giving each corpse a kick for good measure. “Animals, the lot of them... those poor soldiers were probably trying to get wounded comrades away from the battlefield when those bastards ambushed them.” 

Lucina barely heard her over the rattling and hissing of the Spheres now forming up around them, her gaze falling onto a body that had been partially dragged into the shrubs. It was a woman, a spark of anger igniting in Lucina’s heart at the sight of the naked, ravaged form and the bruises that marked her pale, beaten flesh. 

“Like I said: savage animals, the lot of them,” Katria spat, stomping towards the distant Dwemer ruins. 

Lucina hurried after her, pushing through the cacophony of the Spheres as her mind once again drifted to the future past. The Spheres rolled over the rough terrain with little difficulty, their metal frames sometimes dinging against rocks or roots as they escorted the two women forward. 

“They’re efficient, aren’t they?” Katria remarked as the duo made their way past winding hills and craggy cliffs, the rushing of water reaching Lucina’s ears. 

“They are,” Lucina agreed, her thoughts roaming through the catalogue of the horrors that she had endured in both timelines, the friends and families that she’d lost and found once again. 

Her mother’s smiling visage... her father’s powerful arms teaching her the way of the blade as he guided her through each swing and parry. 

Cynthia’s voice cracking as she shouted her lines in desperate battle against Grima’s hordes, her blue hair streaked with blood and dirt. 

“For the Forsworn!” a weak voice snapped Lucina out of her memories, followed by the snapping of mechanical blades and the thudding of bodies on the rocky ground. 

The path they were on was leading away from the Dwemer ruins rising from the mountainside, several Centurions stomping about on patrol routes as Spheres idled here and there. Smaller forms of mechanical spiders skittered about the walls, small appendages crackling with electricity as they latched onto some of the Spheres with extra plates of metal. 

A Forsworn camp was tucked up in the hills overlooking a Dwemer-made bridge crossing a roaring river, the savage warriors currently being butchered by a swarm of Spheres. Several of the metal constructs fell before a flailing wildman wielding lightning and axes, the opened cavity of his chest pulsing with fell magics before one of the Spheres finally cut the warrior’s head off. 

“Ugh, a Briarheart,” Katria shuddered at Lucina’s side, bow in her hands. “Undead Forsworn who have been reanimated with Hagraven magic. They’re damn difficult to kill.” 

The adventurer paused before the steps of the bridge. “Again.” 

The Spheres rattled away to form a perimeter around the crossing, bows and blades primed as steam gushed from their bodies. 

“I guess we move on our own from here?” Lucina strode up the stairs, spray from the rushing water splashing across her face as her heels clicked against the grey stone. 

“Hey, wait up!” Katria scurried after her, dislodging some pebbles from the lower steps and setting them clacking against the earth. 

Lucina squinted through the water as she crossed the bridge, her hair matting to her back as the misty spray cascaded around her. She pushed through and strode up another small stairway to a clearing where an altar of sorts had been erected.

“Hey, there it is!” Katria’s excited voice made Lucina’s lips curve into a smile at the sight of the blue crystalline shard waiting atop the altar.

The adventurer sprinted up to the altar and snatched up the Aetherium shard before gently placing it into a pouch, muttering to herself as she moved it around to ensure it wouldn’t be damaged.  

Lucina nodded to herself, satisfaction flickering through her mind at this first step taken. “Now, what was Caesar saying about this Blackreach being able to help us move around?” 

Katria's wicked grin made chills enter Lucina's body, filling her with instant regret at her question. "Oh, I can't wait to show you! I only pray the stories I've heard do the real thing justice!" 

Katria dashed back across the bridge and Lucina offered a silent prayer to Naga for their safety. 


	11. Vampire Princess

Tolan was an early riser, Caesar would give him that. Other than that, the Vigilant was a stoic man.

They had made good time since departing Fort Dawnguard, stopping at Nightgate Inn when the dusk threatened to overcome them. 

Caesar could have kept going, of course, but Tolan was fatigued after a long day of travel and Caesar had abdicated to allow the man proper rest. 

The morning air was brisk as usual despite the crackling hearth spreading warmth from the center of the inn, Caesar leaning on one of the support posts as he waited for Tolan to finish eating. 

Boredom was running rampant through his mind, his armor having already been cleaned and polished alongside his weapons and his hunger satiated with warm bread, cheese, and a slab of goat meat. 

“Ah, sorry for making you wait,” Tolan strode up to him, his warhammer resting upon his back and his Amulet of Stendarr gleaming around his neck. “How long do you think it’ll take us to reach the Pale?” 

“Not too long,” Caesar grunted. “The Hall isn’t too far from here, after all. I just hope we can get through Fort Dunstad without the Stormcloak garrison losing its mind.” 

Tolan frowned at him. “Aren’t you on good terms with the Stormcloaks?”

“So long as they don’t draw steel first, same as the Legion,” Caesar pushed off the post and folded his arms. “Ready to go?” 

“Aye,” Tolan nodded grimly, his features hard as he reached up to absently grip his horn-shaped amulet. 

Caesar called his thanks to the innkeeper before striding towards the heavy oaken door and heaving against it. 

Snow and icy wind caressed him, but his visor kept the flakes from his eyes and Caesar was once again thanking the gods-and the Dwemer- for the insulation of his armor. Tolan shuddered at first before his Nord blood allowed him to weather the bitter cold in his robes and armored limbs, the duo shutting the door behind them and striding roughly east. 

Their armored feet stomped over the muddy path before it gave way to somewhat-paved stone roads, metal clicking with each step they made as they pushed on. 

The men walked in silence, wary eyes examining the frost-kissed forest and cliffs surrounding them for any threats. 

Silverdrift Ruin, one of the many ancient Nordic burial grounds dotting the landscape, poked out of the wilds on the right, but there were no brigands occupying the outer porch this time. 

Caesar nodded to himself. “Good, I want to save my energy for the vampires.” 

“Were you expecting trouble?” Tolan asked, warily glancing back at the ruins before they were swallowed up by the forest. 

“Last time I was there, the place was overrun with bandits and Draugr,” Caesar explained. “Seems like they’re deserted now, as they should be.” 

“Ugh, I dislike Draugr almost as much as damn Daedra worshippers,” Tolan muttered, shaking his head as the duo continued on. 

“I know what you mean,” Caesar turned his attention to keeping an eye on their surroundings, the men falling into silence until the grey walls of an ancient stone fortress emerged in the clearing between two mountains. 

Soldiers in blue patrolled the ramparts, weapons of iron or steel in their grasps or resting upon their backs. Several wore thick wool scarves, but the majority wore only their armor and whatever fur and leather they could scrounge up. 

Blue banners fluttered in the wind, the roaring bear etched upon them making Caesar fight down a snort. Little more than a bloody militia, they were, not nearly as well-organized or as well-equipped as the Legion.

Honestly, it was impressive and a statement to how strong Nord warriors were that this rebellion had lasted this long, especially with a general as accomplished as Tullius leading the Legion against the rebels. 

“Stop right there!” the blue soldiers had taken note of the duo approaching the walls and the wooden palisade erected at the gate. 

An archer standing atop the wooden tower pulled back on a bow better suited for hunting, squinting down the shaft of an iron-tipped arrow not likely to punch through legionnaire armor. 

“Peace, my friends!” Tolan raised his hands and took a cautious step forward, letting his amulet hang from his thumb. “I am with the Vigil of Stendarr! My companion and I seek to investigate the ruins of our Hall, beyond the fortress!” 

“Is that the Dragonborn?” the whisper was almost lost to the wind. 

A larger man dressed in bear hide peered over the rampart, scowling down at the duo. “Dragonborn, does this one speak the truth? Are you investigating those ruins?” 

Tolan stiffened, the wound of his order’s devastation still quite fresh. 

Caesar strode forward and removed his helmet, hissing as the bitter cold plunged icy daggers into his flesh. “He does. I am aiding the remnants of the Vigil along with the Dawnguard in combating the vampires that have been popping up all over the place. We merely wish to pass through!” 

The archers lowered their bows.

“They could have snuck past us,” one soldier pointed out. “They’re respecting our authority by askin’.” 

“Snuck by us? How? That armor’s almost as loud and shiny as the Legion’s!” 

“Quiet!” the commander snapped, his troops immediately clamming up. “We bore witness to the assault on the Hall, you know. If you plan to investigate, be careful. We’ll let you pass, but you’re not entering the fort. Go around the walls.” 

Fair enough. 

Caesar nodded. “As you wish. I thank you for your tolerance of our presence.” 

Well, that could have hardly gone better, he supposed. Caesar replaced his helmet, almost sighing as he was once again sealed inside the warm Dwemer armor. Cold water from melting snowflakes that had snuck in the insulation trickled down his flesh, but he ignored it.

Under the eyes of watchful sentries, Caesar and Tolan made their way around the fortress walls, their feet gouging deep furrows in the piled snow as they slogged forward. They remained silent as the heavy snow gave way to a beaten path, striding away from the Stormcloaks towards the westernmost mountainside. 

The fort fell behind, not entirely being engulfed by the forests when the blackened, smoldering ruins of a simple wooden building emerged higher up the base of the mountain. 

“There it is,” Tolan muttered, his voice tight with rage. “Stendarr strike down every one of those damn vampires.” 

Caesar nodded, recalling too vividly how many brushes of death he’d had when fighting those vicious creatures. Steel skittered against steel on the wind as it shifted, and the two men glanced at one another.

“That came from the Hall,” Caesar noted, his hand already unsheathing the triangular blade on his waist. 

“Let’s go!” Tolan heaved his warhammer into both hands and steamed towards the ruins, Caesar hot on his heels. 

The duo immediately found several Vigilants surrounded by golden auras fighting desperately to survive against a swarm of vampires and their thralls, blood staining the snows red and bodies lumped upon the ground. 

“For the Vigil!” Tolan roared, startling the demons as his hammer crushed the nearest thrall’s skull. 

Caesar refrained from Shouting-the flames the vampires so feared would easily engulf the Vigilants- but instead gathered power in his free hand, firing off three spells as rapidly as he could muster. 

Steam hissed as voids were ripped in the fabric of the world, metal clanking and churning as a trio of golden Spheres emerged from the nothingness, blades extended. 

It was a bloodbath: the vampires and their thralls fell to blade and hammer in moments as the pincer closed, leaving four gasping Vigilants clutching at their wounds as their amulets ceased glowing. 

“Tolan?! Thank Stendarr you arrived when you did!” one man gasped, the skin on his face not covered by a beard an ashen pallor. “I thought we were done for!” 

“The monsters set up in the wreckage, waiting for returning patrols that hadn’t been caught in the main attack,” a woman explained, her hands shining as she channeled magic through her fingertips. They fell upon us the second we approached.” 

Caesar moved among the corpses as the Vigilants spoke to one another, stabbing the vampires through their heads to ensure that the demons were down for good and not just faking. That had been one lesson he’d learned the hard way, especially learning how much Sanguinare Vampiris hurt like hell to contract.

His Spheres followed him like sheep, their hissing a comfort to the silence.  

 “Ye gods, is that... Drake Caesar?!” 

Caesar glanced back at the staring Vigilants, raising a hand in a friendly wave. “Greetings.” 

“You brought him with you, Tolan?” the first Vigilant asked his companion, who nodded.

“Aye, we’re working with the Dawnguard to deal with the vampires,” Tolan shook his head slowly, gazing at the four corpses of his companions that they’d arrived too late to save. “We’re for Dimhollow Crypt to see what these monsters want in there.” 

The four Vigilants immediately straightened, clutching their maces with tight grips as they looked at Caesar. 

“Sir, allow us to go with you!” one pleaded. 

“We failed here, but if we can be of any aid...” 

They were weakened, but healing steadily thanks to the blessings of their amulets and their own magics. Perhaps they would be useful, after all. 

“Alright,” Caesar nodded. “Let’s go, then. Where’s the crypt?” 

Tolan slumped as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Just on the other side of these rocks. We’ll have to go up the mountain a ways, but not too far.” 

“Very well. I’ll keep my Animunculi on high alert in case more vampires are waiting for us, but let’s inter your dead first.” 

It was difficult opening up the hard, frozen soil, but Caesar eased the endeavor with dragonfire. By the time four fresh graves rose from the earth, the sun was high in the grey skies, feebly struggling against Skyrim’s bitter chill as Tolan led the group up the mountainside. 

“Brother Aldvald was certain there was some secret being held inside,” Tolan murmured as the group wound their way up a beaten path. “The vampires certainly seem to think so.” 

Caesar nodded, not responding as the group wound a turn. His eyes immediately spotted the stone steps leading to a cave mouth carved into the mountainside, almost completely lost in the shadows of the stone around it. 

“It’s very well concealed,” he frowned, a hand going to his sword. “I’ll go first with the Animunculi in case there are any traps.” 

“Yes, sir!” one of the Vigilants piped up a bit too enthusiastically, making the others chuckle. 

Caesar knew the clanking and hissing of his Spheres would blow any chance of sneaking up on the vampires, but he doubted the demons would prove a threat to the automatons or himself. 

It was the safety of the Vigilants that concerned him, truth be told. At least he could keep an eye on them if they were with him. 

Caesar glanced at his Spheres, debating on just using The Calling to communicate telepathically with the automatons. Verbal orders would probably serve best here. 

“With me,” he grunted, the balls whirring in acknowledgement.

That done, Caesar turned and squeezed into the cave mouth, not caring as his pauldrons and crest dug furrows into the ice walls. The tunnel opened up after a few moments, giving his Spheres room to deploy at his back as they entered a wide cavern. 

Vampires had, predictably, been waiting in ambush, the demons roaring and hissing as they dove forth from their hiding places behind stone pillars. 

Caesar unsheathed his sword and decapitated one in a clean motion, inhaling with the same breath and drawing upon his dragon soul. 

 _“_ _Yol_ _Toor Shul!”_  a great gout of blazing flames washed over several more of the beasts, their screams filling the air as their blazing bodies collapsed, writhing at the dragonfire consuming their flesh. 

The Spheres rattled forward, systematically carving apart the surviving vampires with the graceful efficiency Caesar had grown to adore, each Animunculus retreating back into its ball form and rattling around the cave to assume chosen sentry positions. 

Caesar studied the ancient gate barring his way further into the caverns, his eyes being drawn to a derelict tower rising out of the mountain wall. He wound his way around the craggy earth surrounding a trickling river of ice-water and pushed his way inside the tower. 

On the second floor was a chain handle, which he pulled down on until it clicked, and the rattling of ancient mechanisms rewarded his effort. 

Caesar strode back out into the cavern just in time for the Vigilants to rush in, ready to crush vampires, only to pause at the slaughter that awaited. 

“Are you okay, Caesar?” Tolan asked, barely hiding the disappointment in his voice as he kicked a charred corpse. 

“I’m fine. I’d like you Vigilants to maintain a perimeter here in case the vampires have reinforcements coming in,” Caesar gestured at the wide cavern. “I don’t know how many ways in or out this place has and I don’t want to have to fight our way out through a bloody horde of the damn things.” 

Tolan opened his mouth to protest, but his fellows nodded gratefully. 

“Aye, we’ll keep the way back open. Thank you for allowing us to rest some,” the bearded Vigilant apparently saw right through Caesar’s little plan. “Send those demons to every hell that this world has.” 

Caesar chuckled. “Oh, I plan to. You three: stay here and guard the gate.”

The Spheres hissed in acknowledgement. 

Caesar glanced at the open gate, reaching into his magic to rip open more holes in the fabric of reality. Seven Spheres, these all silver, emerged from the holes, hissing and clanking as they saluted with their crossbow hands. 

“Let’s go!” he ordered. “Kill every single vampire that tries to stop us!” 

The silver Spheres nodded their rectangular heads and then poured into the open gate before Caesar could stop them. 

“Damn it,” he muttered. “Get back here!” 

He dashed after his Animunculi, ignoring the ruins that spread out before him as he plunged into some sort of graveyard where his summons were in the process of slaughtering vampires and skeletons. 

One vampire fled into the cave mouth awaiting on the other end of the room, where it was pursued by Animunculi with only one purpose: to kill every vampire and undead thing wandering these ancient halls. 

Caesar lost himself in the great labyrinth of catacombs, caves, and spider-infested tombs, his Animunculi leaving scores of corpses from vampires, thralls, and awakening Draugr in their wake. Strange black hounds from hell tried to latch onto Caesar when he stumbled into the beasts, but bolts from his summons dropped the creatures. 

Only when another large iron portcullis blocked their way did the Spheres stop in their single-minded slaughter, putting a volley of burning bolts through the gaps in the iron at the vampire who had been contending with a massive spider. 

The architecture inside the gates was different: it was still stone, but decidedly not of ancient Nordic make. 

“Okay, stop here and let me get this gate open,” Caesar glared at his summons, who nodded in response. “If the vampires tried to block this off, then clearly something important’s on the other side.” 

The Spheres retracted back into their ball forms, softening the noise they made as Caesar pulled down on a lever jutting out from the wall. With a loud groan, the portcullis slid into the groove on the ceiling, opening the way. 

Caesar strode forward, shoving the corpses of vampire and spider aside as he pushed open the triangular door awaiting him. An altar met him in a smaller room opening up into a massive cavern, his eyes narrowing as voices reached his ears. 

“You won’t break me, monsters!” a weak man’s voice declared, his defiance strong despite his wavering tones. 

“You don’t even know what it is you Vigilants have found here, have you?” a sneering voice answered him, too silky yet guttural to be a human’s. 

“My faith in Stendarr will-” 

Steel sang and flesh ripped, the Vigilant’s voice devolving into a ragged scream before silence filled the air. 

“Lokil, we could have learned something useful from him!” a female vampire protested. 

Caesar had heard enough. He strode out of the dais overlooking the lower level, where a score of vampires were standing around a shirtless, bleeding Vigilant corpse and snapped his fingers. 

“What the?!”

“Another one?!” 

“Kill him!” the vampires surged up a set of stairs towards him, but Caesar merely stepped to the left of the door and studied the strange structure awaiting him.

His Spheres rattled by, swords extended and crossbows snapping as they plowed into the vampires, filling the air with the din of steel on steel and the ominous hum of the accursed Life Drain spell. 

Idiots, as if that would work on metal Animunculi.

Caesar frowned at the strange structure built onto a stone pillar rising from the subterranean lake shimmering at the very bottom of the cave, a line of arches surrounding the edges. A lone dais rose from the rounded middle of the island, long grooves cut into the stone in ways that could only be engineered for a greater purpose. Large silver braziers were resting on the grooves in a strange pattern, as if waiting for the central dais to be activated. 

Caesar jumped down, grunting as his legs shuddered at the impact of stone on steel. 

“Die!” A vampire lunged at him, only to jerk as a bolt slammed into its chest. 

Caesar strode across the bridge connecting the platform to the island, his Spheres rattling after him. Ignoring the braziers, which were empty and dull, he approached the central column, frowning as he studied it. 

There appeared to be some sort of button on top of it, a button that did... what, exactly? He reached out to it, feeling his hand enter some sort of magical aura, and froze as his armor peeled back to uncover his flesh. 

Caesar yanked his arm back and the gauntlet melted back into the place it had been before, undamaged by the magics. He flexed his fingers, the material moving with the same fluidity as before. 

“What the hells?” he muttered, glaring at the button. “It really wants me to touch it with flesh, huh? It’s going to stab me, isn’t it...” 

It was a damned vampire relic, of course it was going to be fueled by blood. 

“Damn it all, this is what I came here for,” Caesar thrust his hand back into the magical field, his gauntlet peeling away as it had before, and pushed his palm upon the button. 

Red hot agony made him grunt and curse as, predictably, a stone spike erupted from the button, impaling his hand. His blood washed into the basin and the spike withdrew, freeing him and restoring his gauntlet. 

“Damn hells,” he snarled, watching as purple light erupted from the grooves in the ground, tethering the silver braziers. “This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?”

At least his dragon blood was rapidly closing up the hole in his hand, but he’d probably have to rinse the inside of the gauntlet out. 

The island trembled, stone mechanisms groaning and grinding as the floor sank into itself, turning the grooves into stairs, and a stone pillar eerily resembling a sarcophagus was now resting in the center, the damn stabby-stab button crowning the top of it. 

His Spheres immediately surrounded the thing, crossbows clicking as they were primed to fire. 

“Okay, let’s try this...” Caesar reached out and pushed the door open.

Grating stone was the first thing she heard, her head still swimming from the sudden influx of unbelievably potent blood. 

Was someone... finally waking her up? How long had it been? 

Light flooded her eyes, her jellied legs immediately giving way under her weight as the only thing keeping her upright was pulled open. The sound of hissing steam and clanking metal slammed into her ears, making her wince as pain knifed her skull. 

“Whoa there!” powerful arms gripped her, sautéed with the overwhelming stench of that ancient blood. 

That voice resonated with power, deep and almost ancient somehow. 

Another smell hit her nostrils: the scent of spilled vampire blood. 

He was a vampire hunter. 

Serana lashed out with her fangs as her ‘rescuer’ held her up as if to help her with her balance, her lips meeting warm flesh. 

Metal clanged in a deafening crescendo, the snapping of taut strings lashing into Serana’s ears and raking more blades across the inside of her pounding skull. 

“You will obey me,” she ordered, her voice muffled by the seal of her lips on the vampire hunter’s throat. “Obey.”

She was a pureblooded vampire, after all. Making thralls was easy. 

The ancient, powerful blood lashed back against her, nearly throwing her off the hunter as his will clashed with hers. 

Okay, so she couldn’t make a thrall against someone so strong-willed, but perhaps she could force him into a blood oath? 

Serana changed tack, forcing simple phrases through the slight hold she had on his blood. 

“You will not harm me.” 

“You will take me home safely.” 

“You will not harm my family once we arrive.” 

He was surprised, judging by how easily he absorbed her commands before his will began fighting back once again. His blood raged and roared, making her entire body shake with the pure power arrayed against her, but she kept her eyes clenched tightly and her fangs embedded. 

His will was powerful, almost absurdly so, but those three orders slipped through his control and Serana almost sighed with the utter relief that flooded her. 

She dared to release him and pried her eyelids open, jolting at the sight that awaited her. 

Silver Dwarven Spheres, about half a dozen, were surrounding her and the man clad in silver armor, arms raised with crossbows attached to them and following her every move. At least that explained the hissing of steam and the whirring of metal limbs. 

Crossbow bolts were peppering the stone behind her, where she’d been standing when she lunged at the hunter, and Serana dimly realized that the Spheres had missed on purpose to avoid hitting their master. 

But why weren’t they firing now? 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” the hunter grunted, his scarred, fair skinned face a mask of annoyance as his yellow, smoldering eyes fixed upon Serana. 

Jet black hair framed his face, swaying as he lifted a silver-covered hand to touch the incision marks on his neck. 

“That’s what I get for lowering my guard,” he sighed. “Trapped in a gods-damned blood oath to an ancient vampire with... is that an Elder Scroll on your back?” 

Serana backed away, her head still spinning from the sheer power of the man’s blood even as she protectively gripped the scroll lashed to her back. “It is, and it’s mine.” 

The hunter snorted. “You can keep the damn thing. I don’t want anything to do with those blasted scrolls.” 

“I wo- what?” Serana scowled at him, noting that his armor was decidedly of Dwarven make despite its silver color. “How long have I been sleeping?” 

The hunter studied her, veins on his neck standing out as he fought against the blood oath’s terms before sighing and relaxing. “Damn, your blood and power are surprisingly powerful, vampire. Even stronger than Movarth was.” 

Movarth? He’d slain Movarth?

“Who is Skyrim’s High King?” she demanded, desperation slipping into her voice. 

The hunter’s eyes hardened. “That’s a matter of some debate.” 

Wonderful. 

“A war of succession? Good to know the world didn’t get boring in my absence,” Serana muttered. “Who are the contenders?” 

“Ulfric Stormcloak and his followers against General Tullius and the Imperial Legion.” 

Imperial? Empire? There was an empire? 

“Empire? What Empire?” 

His eyes registered surprise and alarm before they returned to their cold, almost serpentine gleam. “The Empire... from Cyrodiil?” 

“Cyrodiil’s at the seat of an Empire?” Serana stared at the hunter. “I must have been asleep longer than I thought... certainly longer than planned.” 

“You’ve been asleep for over a thousand years, aye,” he grunted. “If my memory is correct, anyhow. History’s never been my strongest suit.” 

“I have to go home,” Serana decided, uncertain if home even still existed. “You will take me there.” 

Annoyance flickered in those dark, gleaming eyes. “That has already been established, and of course that means my Animunculi are at your service as well. I won’t just start murdering innocent people on your orders, however.” 

Serana nodded absently, her gaze roaming around the vastly changed tomb she had been hidden away in. “Any idea how to get out of here? This place looks really different than it was when I was sealed away.” 

“There’s another bridge behind your sarcophagus,” the hunter answered. “Perhaps that will lead to an exit?” 

He sighed. “Meanwhile, Tolan and the other Vigilants are holding their positions at the cave’s main entrance. I’m assuming you want to avoid them?” 

“Vigilants?” Serana frowned. “Vampire hunters?” 

“Of a sort,” the hunter replied. “They hunt down anything that deals with Daedra, and of course vampires fit into that category, so yeah.” 

A vampire hunter who’d slain Movarth and apparently knew his Daedra? It was perhaps just blind luck that enabled Serana to force him into a blood oath. 

“Yes, I want to avoid them,” she snapped, the serpentine taste of his blood lingering in her mouth. “Where’s this bridge you were talking about?” 

The hunter nodded behind her, then reached down to pick up a silver Dwarven helmet with a sideways crest crowning it. He placed it over his head, utterly sealing himself inside the peculiar silver and black. 

“Let’s go, then,” he paused. “I’m Caesar, by the way.” 

“Serana,” she answered, frowning at the sudden burst of civility.

Caesar made his way around the sarcophagus, his metal feet clanking against the stairs with each step. His Spheres, having finally lowered their crossbows, rattled after him, their bodies radiating heat as they belched steam. 

Serana reached for the dagger she could feel strapped to her hip and followed, examining the cave that she had awakened within. 

It was so different... like that bridge Caesar was crossing and heading towards a small dais with two stone gargoyles. 

Serana paused; wait, gargoyles?! 

“Caesar! Wait!” 

Too late: the statues exploded in a rain of stone shards, the gargoyles roaring as they emerged from their hibernation and streaked towards Caesar. 

Serana dashed forward, conjuring magicka into her hands and about to loose lightning when Caesar moved. 

In a silver blur, the sword on his waist was unsheathed and the gargoyles crumpled almost in the same motion. 

“Creatures of stone?” Caesar mused as he studied the carcasses. “I’ll have to remain alert.” 

Serana stared dumbly at her ‘rescuer’ as he continued on his way, heading towards a gate residing further up the rocky hillside of the cave. 

A Sphere rattled towards her, its emotionless face boring into Serana’s soul as it gestured with its sword-arm for her to follow. 

Serana shook her head. “Right... he did say he’d slain Movarth...” 

She hurried after Caesar, glad that the blood she’d taken from him was satiating her thirst and not leaving her any weaker than before. 

They entered another burial chamber, sarcophagi disgorging a few Draugr once Caesar pulled a lever to open a nearby gate. The undead fell to a hail of projectiles radiating heat, their flesh smoldering from the entry wounds. 

Okay, so those bolt heads were apparently superheated; Serana thanked whoever was listening that she hadn’t been hit by any earlier. 

A massive audience chamber followed, skeletons with ancient weapons rising from their slumbers and turning towards the intruders. A burning pit lay at the very bottom of the chamber, which had stairs and small balconies surrounding said pit as if it were some sort of entertainment venue, the grates holding a few charred corpses upon it. 

“Oh damn hells,” Caesar muttered as a creature rose from the throne of the main balcony, its screech echoing through the musty halls. “Dragon Priest.”

The Spheres scattered to engage the skeletons swarming towards them, crossbows snapping and bolts crunching through ancient bones. The Dragon Priest, clad in rotted robes with scaled shoulders, levitated as it conjured crackling electricity into its hands, eyes burning an ominous azure as they followed Caesar’s every move. 

“Come,” Caesar growled, his own hand alighting with flames. 

Serana gathered her power and released it at the Dragon Priest, a blinding white-hot bolt of lightning streaking towards the lich in a deafening boom. She blinked, spots dancing across her vision from the explosion of light and heat and her ears ringing.

Gods, she was out of practice after so many centuries asleep!

Bones hit the ground from all over, bouncing down the stairs in a waterfall of necromancy as her ears began to recover. Serana looked back at the Dragon Priest as it shrieked in agony, its disintegrating body falling from Caesar’s silver blade. 

How the hell did he get over there so quickly? 

Caesar kicked the ashes of the Priest away and looked back at Serana, the empty face of his helm boring into her very soul. Spheres gathered around him, no worse for wear, although two came to Serana as if they were guarding her. 

“The way is clear, Lady Serana,” Caesar drawled, striding up the stairs towards another gate hopefully leading out of this stuffy, moldy, musty catacomb. 

She doused her magic. “I can see that, Caesar.” 

A low chuckle escaped the helm, oddly distorted by the metal. “Indeed, indeed. Let us hope this is the last bit of resistance we’ll encounter.” 

Serana followed him in silence as he shoved the great gates open, a cold wind greeting them along with the carved tunnel that led to a doorway of light and snow. 

“Good, we’ll be outside after this,” Caesar glanced over his shoulder, over Serana’s head. “I hope the Vigilants don’t start freaking out since I will return to them, but my Spheres will guide them to town.” 

Right... those other vampire hunter friends of his. 

A chill made Serana shudder as her form was wracked by the icy daggers of Skyrim’s infamous weather, the memories drudged up by the feeling mocking her. 

The castle... would it still be there? And Mother...

The group emerged high on the mountainside, snow crunching underfoot and flurries of snow falling from white-covered trees or the churning grey skies. 

How much of Skyrim had changed since she last felt this? Serana shuddered as beams of sunlight poked through the grey, its mere presence alone making her blood boil until she drew her hood up to shield herself. 

“Where does your family live?” Caesar snapped her out of her thoughts. 

“An island north of Solitude,” she answered, praying she was telling the truth. “I’d imagine they still do.” 

“Right, vampires,” Caesar muttered. “Immortality.” 

The dark tone in his voice made Serana’s instincts blare warnings, her fingers tightening around the hilt of the black dagger buckled to her hip. “Yes, we vampires are immortal. Does that irk you?” 

“Only when the vampires are slavering monsters looking to murder or enslave innocent people for blood, which has been every single vampire I’ve met up until you,” Caesar’s answer made her pause in her prepared, scathing retort. “Don’t get me wrong: I understand that you vamps need blood to survive, but there must be better ways of going about it, hmm? There’s a reason people fear your kind.” 

“And what about you?” Serana retorted, the unusual taste of his blood still upon her lips. “Your blood is far from normal, so what are you?” 

A slight chuckle answered her. “A warrior; nothing more, nothing less. Now, let’s be on our way: Dragon Bridge will likely be our destination, yes?” 

“Before we push north, yes,” Serana nodded. “There should be a path leading down to the northern coast once we pass the mountains.” 

“I know what you mean,” Caesar nodded/ “I just hope that doesn’t mean going near that damn Thalmor fortress on the coast.” 

“Thalmor?” Serana frowned at the bitterness and loathing in his tone. “Not friendly with them?”

“Oh, you’ll see. Those arrogant Mer are a pain in the ass to anyone who isn’t a High Elf on their side,” Caesar shook his head as if dispelling unpleasant memories. “Come on, we should be able to reach Dawnstar within an hour or so and then we can take a carriage to Dragon Bridge.” 

Serana nodded. “Well, I’ll trust your knowledge.”

And the blood oath binding him as her protector. 

This was going to be a very strange journey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Vigilants, sitting alone in a cave, waiting for a Dragonborn who isn't going to be returning anytime soon.


	12. War and Chaos

“Where do we go from here, Katria?” Lucina peered at her companion over the cookfire she’d made, where the adventurer was currently roasting freshly caught and dressed salmon on wooden stakes. 

The smell of cooking fish was making her mouth water, truth be told!

The duo had followed the river southeast, Katria explaining that they’d have to ford it and pass by an Orc encampment if they were to make it to Dragon Bridge to replenish their supplies. 

“We keep heading east, generally,” Katria replied, her eyes gleaming as she turned the fish. “The Orcs aren’t going to be friendly, but we don’t have to interact with them: we can just bypass their camp and cut through the mountains.” 

Lucina nodded. “And then we’re for the Pale, are we not?” 

“Yup. From the map I’ve compiled, we’ll find entrances to Blackreach in the Pale, which would save us a trip through Whiterun and Eastmarch,” Katria confirmed, poking one of the fish with a stick. “Entrances are at Alftand and Mznchaleft.” 

“I see,” Lucina didn’t even bother to attempt to pronounce the second name in her head, just nodded and went along with what Katria was saying.

As soon as Katria’s catch was cooked, the women devoured their meals. The taste was delectable, and Lucina found her own portion of the catch gone before she knew it. 

Warmth spread from her full belly, a sigh escaping Lucina’s lips as she looked back at the river gurgling past. 

“It appears you liked my cooking,” Katria joked, finishing off her own fish.

Lucina’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “My apologies if I seemed unusual: in the future, it was difficult to find enough food to survive, so I grew accustomed to eating whatever I could.” 

“Ah, I see,” Katria nodded, a grim expression on her lips. “Well, if we’re done eating, I’ll douse this fire and we can get back on track.” 

Lucina helped her haul water from the nearby river to the cookfire, dousing it until it was naught but smoldering, blackened wood that had been thoroughly soaked through. 

“That should work,” Katria nodded to herself, her gaze turning to the hill rising over the bank. “We just keep heading in this way and we should be in sight of the orc encampment before long.”

“Any idea what it’s called?” Lucina asked, curiosity spiking within her. 

Katria shook her head sheepishly. “I can pronounce Dwemer names no problem, but Orc tribes are something else entirely.” 

Lucina nodded: she could understand the complexities of pronouncing names in foreign tongues quite well, especially during the war in Valm. 

The two women checked their weapons and then strode towards the hill, Katria glancing sidelong at a Dwarven pillar rising from the ground off to the side. 

They barely made it up halfway when voices made both women crouch behind one of the boulders rising from the hillside.

“Bah, that cave’s an absolute bust!” a gruff male voice growled. “Treasure in Darkfall Cave, my ass!” 

“You should’ve let me rip that merchant’s fur off bit by bit: that would’ve gotten him talking for real,” another voice grunted. 

Shuffling footsteps reached their ears, followed by heavy objects hitting the ground and groans as wood creaked. 

Lucina glanced at Katria, who mouthed ‘bandits.’

That was all she had to know, Falchion in her grip as she eased the weapon from its scabbard, slowly so as to not make any noise. 

The women crept forward, making minimal noise as they crawled up the hill. 

“Might make for a decent holdout,” one of the brigands spoke again, her thick accent identifying her as a Nord. “So long as none of you louts draws the attention of the patrols skirmishing in the area.”

Lucina inhaled and exhaled slowly to calm her nerves, to ease her racing heart as adrenaline pulsed through her veins. 

Calm... patience, just like Father taught her.

Katria peered over the crest of the hill, her eyes narrowed as she gazed at the bandit encampment. Lucina waited below her, awaiting the woman’s judgement on what they’d do. 

“There’s about seven of them,” Katria whispered as the bandits continued talking to one another. “Not very well equipped, save for the one I assume is their leader. I can take out their mage and archer, but once they rush over, they’re yours.” 

Lucina nodded. “Alright.”

Katria carefully pulled an arrow from her quiver, nocked it on Zephyr’s thick string, and quietly pulled back on the weapon, steely eyes narrowed as she took aim. 

The bandits’ conversations were interrupted by the snap-thrum of the heavy string being released, followed by the hissing of a shaft and the meaty impact of Katria’s target taking the shot. 

“What the-?!” almost faster than Lucina could see, Katria whipped out a second arrow, pulled it back, and released it, a shocked cry following as another body crumpled to the ground. 

“Ambush!” 

“There! By the hill!” 

Katria pulled back on another arrow and loosed it, but this shot was met with the impact of the arrow on wood: she’d hit a shield. 

“Get the bitch!” the female voice from earlier commanded, hoarse battle cries following the words. 

The earth trembled slightly with the onrushing footfalls, Lucina silently counting down based on how close they sounded as Katria fired off another arrow. 

A bandit screamed, followed by a crash. 

“Have to do better than that!” Katria taunted, turning and dashing down the hill.

Lucina readied herself, tensing her muscles to strike, and lunged the moment a gruffy, dirt-covered head poked over the ridge. 

“Ha!” Falchion whipped upwards with blinding speed, the sacred blade sliding beneath the hide-covered buckler the brigand held and punching into the body beneath it. 

“It’s a trap!” the second brigand, clad in dirty leather armor, began to backpedal in an attempt to escape Falchion’s blinding strikes. 

Lucina pounced, sliding her weapon past the bandit’s guard and slamming the divine blade home in his chest. 

These brigands reeked of sweat, grime, and alcohol, Lucina wrinkling her nose as blood joined the mix as she bounded backwards, yanking her weapon free from the bandit’s carcass. 

Five down, two left. 

The one Katria had surmised was the chief was the woman who’d spoken earlier, her body covered in metal plates over black padding, intricate designs carved onto the metal in Nordic patterns and the helmet a mien of a bear’s head. A wicked looking curved blade of similar style was in the woman’s gloved hand, gleaming in the sunlight. 

The last bandit was, like his fellows, dressed in dirty hide and leather, a simple iron blade and shield in his grasp as he menaced Lucina with the weapon. 

“Come on, whore!” he sneered, his brown hair thick and unkempt, lips nearly hidden by his beard and mustache. “Won’t be able to surprise us!”  

Lucina’s chest warmed with rage at the insult but she refused to let this scum goad her. The chief said nothing, her icy blue eyes burning with rage as she warily gazed at Lucina. 

“What’re we waiting for?!” the bandit demanded, glaring at his boss. “We kill her and sell that nice sword she’s got! Then go for the bitch with the bow!” 

Lucina lunged as he spoke, his startled cry turning into a gurgled choke as Falchion slid beneath his guard and punched into his rib cage, the impact jarring Lucina’s arm. 

Her instincts flared as steel whispered through the air behind her and Lucina gathered her considerable strength to leap backwards. The chief’s wicked blade sliced through the air where she’d just been standing, a grunted curse escaping the Nord’s lips as she tried to correct her momentum and cover her now-exposed side. 

Lucina lunged, aiming Falchion at a gap between the metal plates, ramming the blade home as she sliced through leather and fur. She felt Falchion bounce off of bone, puncturing organs, the bandit chief letting out a low groan of agony as her sword fell from an unfeeling hand. 

Lucina pulled Falchion out, grim satisfaction trickling through her as the bandit’s corpse crumpled onto the earth, her armored form gouging the dirt. 

“That was terrifying,” Katria commented as the adventurer strode over to Lucina, crouching to rifle through the pockets of one of the dead bandits. 

Lucina frowned at the looting, then remembered that these were bandits who likely murdered innocent people for a living and turned away to study the bandit chief and her unusual armor. 

“Puzzled by her gear?” Katria asked, the small pouch in her hand jangling as she tossed it from hand to hand.

“I haven’t seen anything like it,” Lucina admitted.

“It’s carved Nordic armor, from Solstheim,” Katria explained. “Some smith in Windhelm managed to get his hands on a design for it from a merchant and now it’s all over Skyrim. Some of the most powerful bandit clans stole a few suits of the stuff, but it’s mostly wealthy mercenaries and sellswords walking around with them. Maybe a Jarl or two.”

Lucina nodded. “I see: isn’t that the island that Caesar was at? Fighting this Miraak?” 

“Yup. Place is both an ash-pit and a snow-covered hell all rolled up into one, from what I’ve heard,” Katria stuffed her spoils into her satchel, glancing around at the tents and supplies spread out around the campsite. “We should take what we can: food and whatnot.” 

“Right.”

The two women set about turning everything in the camp over, taking food and any valuables Katria could find and stuff into her growing stash. 

“Right, that should be enough,” Lucina decided as she looked at the salted meats, cheese, and vegetables she’d taken and stashed into her own satchel.

“Agreed!” Katria was grinning as she examined some large gems she’d found. “Wonder how much a jeweler will pay for these babies!” 

Lucina shrugged, not well versed in the value of gems. “I don’t know. Perhaps we should get moving?” 

Katria gave an embarrassed smile as she pocketed her spoils. “Right, sorry!” 

The adventurer quickly took the lead, striding through the wilds with Lucina at her side. 

Before long, the air began to grow colder, mountains in the distance dusted with snow that cruised on the breeze and melted as it hit the green.

A great valley opened up before them, mountains to the west and a canyon to the east. A wall of sharpened stakes rose from the base of the mountains, wooden towers rising here and there as green-skinned Orc sentries gazed at the valley. 

“There’s the Orc camp,” Katria shrugged. “We just keep our distance and they won’t bother us.” 

Lucina nodded, joining her companion in skirting around the edges of the valley. She could feel the keen eyes of the Orc scouts boring into her with each step. 

“Gods, I keep expecting to feel an arrow between my shoulders,” Katria whispered as they kept moving, the rocky path leading out now before them. 

Lucina spotted something on the ground that made her reach out and seize Katria’s shoulders to halt her: “Look, blood.”

Katria scowled. “There’s a couple bear traps. Don’t think the Orcs set them: they wouldn’t want to block off this route.”

“Bandits?” Lucina guessed. 

Katria picked up a long stick and prodded the closest bear trap with it, the trap’s razor-sharp teeth snapping shut with a loud metallic shriek. 

Movement immediately came from the other side of the valley, Lucina glimpsing an elk-head helmet that told her everything she needed to know.

“Forsworn!” she shouted as two of the Reachmen sprinted towards the two women, crude weapons ready to tear into their flesh. 

Katria unsheathed two knives from her belt and leaped to the side to avoid a stone and wood axe, jabbing one knife into the Forsworn’s arm as he steamed past. 

Lucina heard the brute’s agonized bellow before steel met bone, Falchion smashing through the teeth lining the wooden Forsworn blade and gouging a massive tear into the savage assailant. 

With her foe down, Lucina turned back to aid Katria just in time to see the adventurer viciously rake her remaining knife across her Forsworn’s throat and throw him, gurgling and choking, onto the ground. 

“They must have been desperate, setting up a trap here,” Katria pulled her first knife from the corpse and cleaned both on the muddy, tattered furs covering it, Lucina wrinkling her nose at the horrid stench of rot emanating from both carcasses. 

“Wait, did you hear that?” Lucina froze as she faintly heard a disturbingly familiar sound off in the distance.

“Hear what?” Katria frowned at her, brushing some of her black hair from her face. 

“A battle,” Lucina strode towards the source of the clashing of steel, somewhere past the canyon. “What’s over here?” 

“A Nordic ruin: Volgskyye,” Katria answered, her knives in their sheaths and her bow once again in her hands. “One of those bandits did say something about skirmishing patrols, so there must be some fighting going on between the Stormcloaks and Imperials.” 

Right as she said that, a volley of fire streaked into the sky from the distance, arcing towards an unseen target. 

“And it looks like we’re about to walk right into it,” Lucina frowned, a knot forming in her stomach. 

“Who says we have to walk into the middle of a battlefield?” Katria asked. “We skirt around the edges, avoid the fighting, and get to Dragon Bridge.” 

Right... perhaps she’d been thinking too literally. Lucina nodded, smiling at Katria as the adventurer laughed. 

“Perhaps I chose my words poorly,” the young lord shook her head. “Do you know the way?” 

Katria nodded with a wink. “Poked around here in the past! Follow me!”

The two women set off, pushing past the remaining bear traps until the rocks gave way to a great forest. 

And the battlefield that had engulfed much of it. 

A great stone ruin rose from the snow-dusted mountains to the north, blue Stormcloak banners fluttering despite the damage done to them as Stormcloak archers loosed volleys from their hiding places. 

The Imperials had constructed wooden walls of sharpened stakes, similar to the Orc encampment just behind the two forces, in the forest just opposite the ruins, silver-clad soldiers hoisting their cross-shaped shields in front of archers wearing leather versions of the Imperial plate. 

Lucina couldn’t see much from the Imperial side, given the thick tree cover they were employing, but it looked as if they’d made quite an encampment in the foliage, if those fluttering banners and tents she could glimpse were any indication. 

“Impressive, huh?” Katria whispered as the two sides continued exchanging fire, arrows filling the air. “Say what you will about the Imperials, but they’re masters of warfare. I wouldn’t be surprised if they moved here and set up this siege camp overnight, right under the Stormcloaks’ noses.” 

“Are they that efficient? Building all of this overnight?” Lucina whispered back, praying to Naga that Arya wasn’t in the middle of this battle. 

“They are, especially if Tullius is the one leading them,” Katria answered, gesturing for Lucina to follow as she began creeping towards the trees.

Lucina crept after her, desperately avoiding stepping on anything that could make a loud noise. 

“The Stormcloaks have a good defensive position, and the ruins are sturdy,” Lucina murmured, again dipping into what Robin had taught her. “If the Imperials can’t break through, they’ll have to try to starve them out.” 

“I can only hope the Stormcloaks don’t wake up the Draugr, if they haven’t already dealt with the things,” Katria commented. “Would hate to be them trying to fight off both the undead and the Imperials.” 

An image of rotting flesh, pulsing red eyes, and gap-toothed maws stained with blood invaded Lucina’s mind, making her shudder. 

“I can understand that.” 

“Understand what?” a male voice made both women freeze, foliage cracking and metal clanking as three Imperial legionnaires emerged from the wood, weapons drawn. 

“The fear of the undead; I’ve had to deal with them in the past,” Lucina said weakly, keeping her hands away from her waist as the stone-faced legionnaires approached in a wall of steel and wood. 

“Yeah, Draugr aren’t a picnic to deal with,” one of the legionnaires nodded. “Who are you and why are you trying to get into our camp?” 

“We’re adventurers seeking a way to Dragon Bridge,” Katria answered, her hands raised. “We came from Markarth after the Forsworn attacked the city. Wanted to get out of the Reach.” 

“Or, you’re Stormcloak spies trying to get past us to Solitude,” the legionnaire growled. “Keep your hands away from your weapons or be ready to lose ‘em.” 

“We mean you no harm: we were trying to avoid getting mixed up in all of this,” Lucina tried to explain, but the legionnaires ignored her. 

“The Tribune will be happy to see that we’ve caught some spies,” one commented. “Especially since this one’s as blue as any Stormcloak I’ve ever seen.” 

Again with her blue apparel?! 

“I’m actually impressed with the sheen of her hair,” another mused. “I wonder what she used to dye it.” 

“It’s not dyed! This is the color of my father’s hair, and I’m proud to wear it!” Lucina blurted. 

“Lucina, I get you wanted to keep a connection to your homeland with your garb, but I told you that people were going to mistake you for a Stormcloak,” Katria deadpanned, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips. “What would your exalted father think if he could see his wayward daughter running about in the mud with us lowly adventurers?” 

What? What was she doing?

“Wait, she’s the daughter of some lord or another?” one of the Imperials asked, the soldiers sharing concerned glances. 

“That sword does seem like something only royalty would be able to carry around,” another legionnaire pointed out. “It’s awfully fancy-looking.” 

Oh! Katria was trying to confuse them! 

“Some lord's daughter or no, homeland or no, we’ll have to bring her to the Tribune,” the third legionnaire announced, leveling his gladius at Lucina. “Keep your hands where they are, miss.” 

“We’ll sort this out, don’t worry,” the friendlier of the trio assured her, a gentle smile on his face as he nodded to his fellows. “Let’s get these two away from the front lines.” 

 “Your call, Hadvar,” one of the other legionnaires approached, his firm hands taking Lucina’s wrists and yanking her arms down behind her back. “Don’t fight, lass.” 

Katria was similarly restrained, the hissing of arrows constant in the background as the two women were taken into the Imperial camp. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait: it's taken me a long time to figure out where I wanted this story to go, especially since I've been having to replay parts of Skyrim, and the mods I've added to spice up the civil war, in order to get material and check the maps. Thank you for your patience!


	13. Forced Cooperation

“Here they are, sir!”  Hadvar’s  cool voice was a picture of drilled professionalism, the rope bindings on Lucina’s wrists digging into her flesh. 

She and  Katria  were pushed into a large tent that was identical to all the others, barring its increased size in comparison to the other one-man lodgings. A dark elf  clad  in heavy silver armor looked up from the wooden table, which was cluttered with all sorts of maps and other papers. 

“Ah, the suspected spies I’ve heard of,” the dark elf nodded, straightening his back and exhaling slowly. “What are your names, ladies?” 

“I am Lucina, this is  Katria ,” Lucina nodded to the Tribune. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.” 

“I am  Selvatore Rebatius , a  Tribunus  for the Imperial Legion,” the dark elf bowed his head in return, the strange metal crest on his helmet reminiscent of the crests those in the  Valmese  Imperial Army wore back when  Walhart  was in power. 

“Tribune, we have reason to believe that this young woman is of a royal house from across the oceans,”  Hadvar  saluted, his voice grim. 

Selvatore  frowned. “What proof do you have?” 

Hadvar  nodded to one of the legionnaires, who held up Falchion. “That sword is clearly of royal make, an heirloom of a noble house. And her clothes and the tiara she wears are of fine, foreign make.” 

The Tribune frowned again, his red eyes narrowed as he leaned in to study Lucina’s face. His breath was fouled with stress, but he backed away to study a paper on the table. 

“She has a strange brand in her eye, one that I am not familiar with. I haven’t seen  its  like in  Tamriel , to be certain, and it does not have a magical air about it as if it was implanted by a spell,” the dark elf murmured, glancing back up at Lucina. “What house sired you?” 

“House  Ylisse , my father is the Exalt of the  Halidom ,” Lucina answered,  Katria  sighing behind her. 

“Your father trusted me to keep an eye on you, Lady Lucina, and now we’re both about to be branded war criminals just because you absolutely had to wear your blue traveling outfit in a land where blue means  Stormcloak ,” the adventurer grumbled. “Honestly, a princess like you should be in Solitude, not traipsing about the wilderness!” 

Right... this plan that  Katria  came up with. Lucina wasn’t one for theatrics, but she would certainly try to play her part. 

“If I want to help these people, I must travel amongst them, must I not?” she protested. “If I am to become an effective ruler of my homeland, then I must prove that I can travel amongst others and aid in their difficulties!” 

“A noble sentiment, but one that could prove dangerous,”  Hadvar  warned,  Katria  sighing.

“ So  I keep telling her, but does she listen? No.”  the adventurer grumbled. 

“You’re being awfully informal for a princess’s guide,” one of the legionnaires noted, Lucina’s fear spiking inside of her mind.

Did they see through the ruse already?!

“We’re childhood friends,”  Katria  lied. “Practically grew up together, so I think I’ve earned the right to gripe a bit.” 

“Childhood friends?”  Selvatore  raised an eyebrow, gazing between the two girls. “I suppose I can see it... What were you doing here?” 

“Trying to get away from the Reach,” Lucina answered honestly, several of the soldiers wincing.

“We heard what happened to  Markarth ,”  Hadvar  murmured. “The general wanted to send a legion to attack the city and reclaim it while the  Stormcloaks  were distracted, but a pirate assault on the coast near the lighthouse pulled us back. We had to protect the citizens of the Hold.” 

“And that  Thalmor  bitch demanded that the general refrain from making large-scale military moves near the embassy without consulting her first,” another legionnaire grumbled. “We can only hope that  Markarth’s  citizens aren’t being caught in the middle of the  Stormcloaks  and the Forsworn.” 

“They aren’t,” Lucina piped up. “Caesar’s  Animunculi  evacuated the citizens into the undercity and helped to drive back the Forsworn.” 

The Imperials looked around in concern,  Selvatore’s  eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

She’d said the wrong thing, hadn’t she?

“Caesar? As in the Dragonborn, Drake Caesar?”  Hadvar  repeated. “You knew him?” 

“I was doing some work in  Markarth , attempting to find some truth behind some of the Silver-Blood corruption,” Lucina answered. “I discovered that  Thonar  Silver-Blood was trying to use the Forsworn as puppets, so he threw me in the mines so nobody would learn the truth. Caesar broke me out right as the Forsworn attacked the city.” 

“And why did the Dragonborn, of all people, personally break you and you alone out of  Cidhna  Mine?”  Selvatore  scowled, the grips of the legionnaires holding Lucina’s arms tightening.

“Because I met him in  Whiterun , when the  Stormcloaks  were invading,” Lucina admitted. “I haven’t been in this country long, I woke up in the middle of a battlefield between the legion and the  Stormcloaks .” 

“We were traveling, we got hit by some sort of magical attack,”  Katria  cut in. “All I remember is walking with Lucina in the Pale, near  Dawnstar , and some freak wizards jumped out of cover and began chanting. There was a bright light and then I woke up somewhere in the Rift.” 

“You’re saying that you were walking, got hit by some magic attack, and suddenly both of you were transported across Skyrim?”  Selvatore  repeated, a dangerous edge forming around his words. 

Right as Lucina’s hope dribbled down into nothingness, the tent shifted to admit another soldier, this one clad in lighter brown leathers.

“Sir! I have a-” the man’s face went slack as he caught sight of Lucina, his saluting hand shooting down to point at her. “You! I recognize you! You’re the strange woman who damn near dropped on my head back in the Pale! Falling out of that light!” 

What? Lucina stared at him, baffled, as she tried to rack her memory. She didn’t remember falling on anyone, especially a scout. The only Imperials she remembered were the silver ones that  Ralof  had rescued her from. 

“What?”  Selvatore  stared at the soldier in question. “Explain.”

“Me and a few other scouts led a raid party to where some  Stormcloaks  had been camping in the Pale,” the scout reported, his wide eyes glancing away from Lucina. “They caught wind of our attack and ambushed us on the way, but we held our own for a time until their commander joined the fray. I was trying to check on some of the wounded near the flanks when some sort of bright light began to shine behind me.” 

“Did you see what that light was?”  Selvatore  asked. 

“No, I couldn’t get a good look at it: it hurt my eyes too much,” the soldier shook his head. “The light starts to fade and next thing I know, this blue-haired girl comes tumbling out of thin air, leaving me scrambling to get away in the snow. A few legionnaires thought she was a  Stormcloak  and attacked her, but actual  Stormcloaks , including Arya Broken-Haft, came to her rescue.” 

“How did you escape?” the  Tribunus  asked, his suspicious gaze abating as his red eyes settled back on Lucina. 

“I... am a little embarrassed to admit, sir,” the scout muttered, his voice softening. “I... played dead and hid myself by one of the corpses . It worked well enough: nobody saw me until I left after the battle, when the  Stormcloaks  were rummaging through the bodies.” 

“You were spotted, hence the arrow wound you had when you made it back to camp,”  Selvatore  finished. “Well, if one of our best scouts can confirm your story, I see no reason to doubt you any further.” 

Relief flooded Lucina, she and  Katria  sharing a relieved smile. 

“However, I cannot just let you walk away without a show of faith,”  Selvatore’s  next words made her hope deflate within her chest. 

“W-why not? We aren’t enemies of the Legion!”  Katria  stammered. “We don’t serve the  Stormcloaks !” 

“ So  you claim, yet if what you are saying is true, then you participated in the  Stormcloak  assault on  Whiterun , only to be driven back to  Markarth  with the rest of the traitors when Caesar intervened,”  Selvatore  intoned, his lips pursing together in thought. “Then he intervened again for some reason, breaking you out of  Cidhna  Mines right as the Forsworn invaded the city. Did he tell you why?” 

“Because I am a foreign princess,” Lucina answered. “He... told me he didn’t want my father to invade, seeking reprisals for my being injured in your war.” 

“A wise sentiment on his part: he does his Legion training proud,”  Hadvar  nodded grimly, a tremor making them all pause to catch their footing.

“The catapults have finally begun their bombardment,”  Selvatore  nodded with satisfaction. “Good. I doubt the fire flasks will be much use against the stone ruins, but at least it’ll keep the  Stormcloaks ’ heads down and burn those damn banners of theirs.” 

“What do you want us to do before you let us go?”  Katria  asked, her voice tight and strained. 

“The  Stormcloaks  took a caravan hostage yesterday before we set up: mostly farmer families fleeing from the war or from the few remaining dragons,”  Selvatore  answered, his eyes cold and calculating. “I have no doubt that they’ll try to use the hostages as shields once we storm their positions, so I’d like you to go with our vanguard and secure the families while the legionnaires drive the  Stormcloaks  back.” 

“I will not fight the  Stormcloaks ,” Lucina’s eyes narrowed. “That defeats the purpose of me trying to avoid this war, does it not?” 

As if on cue, metallic clanking and hissing made all present jump as a silver Sphere rattled its way into the tent, expanding its torso until it was staring at Lucina. 

“Ah, there’s our escort,”  Katria  exhaled heavily, the relief all too evident in her voice. 

“Escort?”  Selvatore  stammered. “W-where did this come from?!” 

“Caesar ordered his  Animunculi  to protect us, to escort us as we traveled Skyrim to ensure that we wouldn’t be assaulted,” Lucina explained. “Or, if we were attacked, that we would survive the encounter.” 

The Sphere nodded its head, then turned to  Selvatore , pointed at the two girls with its sword arm, then shook its head as it gestured at the distant battlefield. 

“It doesn’t want us going onto the battlefield,”  Katria’s  voice barely hid her relief, which was just discernable to  Lucina.

“We will not allow you to leave without helping us secure the hostages,”  Selvatore  growled. “Your blue apparel may be the only chance we have of getting those people out of there alive, especially since Arya Broken-Haft may have told some of the rebels to keep an eye out for you.” 

“You want me to sneak inside and pose as a  Stormcloak ?” Lucina realized, bitter dislike burning her throat. “To betray their trust?” 

“You will join our main assault on the fortifications, accompanied by your Dwarven guardians, and get the families out of there,”  Selvatore  shook his head. “With luck, the mere presence of the automatons will dissuade the  Stormcloaks  from attacking you.”

“Won’t the  Animunculi  convince the  Stormcloaks  that Caesar joined the Legion?”  Katria  piped up/ 

“If they act in self-defense while going to the family and don’t fight alongside the legionnaires, I doubt even the  Stormcloaks ’ most ardent followers would believe that Caesar rejoined us,” the  Tribunus  shook his head. 

“I’m not entirely sure, but what choice do we have?”  Katria  grumbled. “If we don’t, you’ll have us either executed or thrown into the dungeons of Castle Dour.” 

“I wish I didn’t have to, but wartime law is severe when dealing with suspected spies and traitors,”  Selvatore  sighed, his shoulders trembling a bit under the heavy weight he carried. “If I don’t follow orders, then I betray everything I believe in.” 

Lucina nodded slowly: she could understand being torn between responsibilities and personal feelings. Uncle Robin... do you hate me? 

“It seems we have no choice,” Lucina admitted, her heart heavy even as the anticipation of the upcoming battle made her head swim. “When are we to set out?” 

There was another loud rumble of creaking wood and ropes being snapped taut, followed by a titanic crash of stone. 

“Right now,”  Selvatore  nodded to  Hadvar . “You’re in command, Optio. Go!” 

“Yes, sir! With me, ladies!”  Hadvar  ducked out of the tent, Lucina about to voice the problem of the ropes binding her wrists when said binds were cut by a dagger. 

Falchion was still being held by a legionnaire, who shook his head when she reached out for it. “Sorry, lass, I can’t give this back to you.  Stormcloaks  might be more lenient if they see that you’re unarmed.” 

“Damn him, he’s right,”  Katria  muttered. “If we go in unarmed, it’ll make it clear that we’re not with the Imperials.” 

“And that the  Animunculi  are here to protect us,” Lucina finished, bitterness tainting her tongue.

“Correct. Let’s move!”  Hadvar  barked.

The two women hurried after  Hadvar  as the legionnaire pushed out into the tree-covered camp, the sharp rumbling and cracking of a nearby catapult announcing the deliverance of another explosive container. 

A crash and the roaring of flames followed, as did the eruption of light and heat in the distance.

Lucina could hear screams in the distance, another image of flames licking flesh and scarring it flashing within her mind. Bile stung her throat worse than the memories did, swallowing the horror and pushing through the iciness that coated her veins.

“Stay close, ladies!”  Hadvar  shouted, drawing Lucina’s attention back to the present. 

They were moving through lines of wooden stakes and palisades erected at the front of the camp, where archers were ducking or rising to  loose  their arrows at the  Stormcloaks  taking cover in the ancient stone. 

Blue banners were burning all over the makeshift fortification, ashes falling from the ramparts as cloth blackened and shriveled beneath the flames. 

“You aren’t trying to break down the walls?” Lucina noted, turning her gaze from the ruins to the large battalion of silver-clad soldiers ducking behind a wall of their shields. 

“We’re mostly  Nords , lass,”  Hadvar  nodded to his troops. “We know better than to break down the walls of our ancestral tombs.” 

“Why is that?” Lucina asked,  Katria  hauling her closer to the shields as a rain of arrows from the  Stormcloaks  pelted the Imperial defenses. 

Metal pinged against metal or thudded into wood all around the soldiers as they hunkered down, grunting against the impacts. 

“It dishonors our ancestors, shames our family names,” another Nord legionnaire reported. “And, if we’re really unlucky, releases the  Draugr  that are sleeping inside.” 

“Wait, the  Draugr  can leave the tombs? I thought they were bound to them, unable to leave,”  Katria  piped up, wincing as an arrow thudded into the palisade right next to her head. “And where are those  Animunculi ?” 

“Aye,  Draugr  can leave if the tombs are opened and left unguarded, or if whatever they were protecting is destroyed, or if someone else is controlling them,”  Ha dvar  commented. “I remember when that psychopath from  Ansilvund  was creating a  Draugr  army to fight us and the  Stormcloaks .” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,  Hadvar ,” one of the legionnaires griped. “We were being depl oy ed all over Skyrim to deal with the  Draugr  that bitch was releasing into the countryside.” 

“What happened with her?” Lucina asked, her interest piqued despite the war raging around them.

“Caesar managed to finally track her and her small army of necromancers to  Ansilvund , he invaded the place with those  Animunculi  of his and slaughtered everything inside,”  Hadvar  answered. “We had been hard-pressed in fighting the  Draugr  everywhere they’d showed up, and now we have the vampires all over Skyrim doing almost the same thing.” 

Another salvo of shafts sprinkled the Imperial lines, making the soldiers duck for cover.

“Right, enough chatter!”  Hadvar  barked after the assault ended. “We’ll wait until the catapults drive the rebels into cover and then advance under our shields!” 

As he finished, the familiar rattling and hissing of  Animunculi  filled the air, heralding the arrival of a dozen Spheres that immediately took up protective positions around Lucina and  Katria . 

“Ah, we’re ready to go,” Lucina nodded to  Hadvar , who shook his head slowly. 

“I don’t want to be the one to piss those things off, that’s for sure,” the soldier muttered. 

Then the legionnaires gathered up their gear and got into formation, raising their shields into defensive positions. 

Lucina watched as each soldier diligently got into place, forming a shell with their wood and steel. As impressed as she was with their professionalism, she couldn’t help but feel a bit of worry. 

If one of them died, would she be faulted for it? 

“We’ll go in first, neutralize their outer defenses for the rest of the attack, and you’ll bring up our rear,”  Hadvar  was saying. “As soon as we clear their stakes, you’re coming after us.” 

“Right,” Lucina nodded. 

At that, the shell cleared the Imperial lines and crossed into the arrow-littered no-man's land, where Lucina spotted the wreckage of several carriages strewn about. 

Almost instantly, the shell became the target of volley after volley of arrows, most of the shafts harmlessly thudding into the shields or not even hitting the shell as the  Stormcloaks  were peppered with Imperial reprisals. 

Lucina watched, her heart lurching, as a blue-clad soldier screamed and pitched from one of the defensive fortifications, an arrow in his neck. 

Bodies lay all throughout the no-man's land, Imperial and  Stormcloak  both littering the torn and bloody ground. Many were feathered with arrows, and many more bore the grisly injuries of iron and steel weaponry upon their forms. 

“They’re clear, Lucina!”  Katria’s  sharp voice drew Lucina back to the battle, where  Hadvar’s  ‘shell’ had plowed through a line of stakes and stampeded over an unlucky  Stormcloak . “Let’s go!”

Lucina inhaled to soothe her racing heart, found that the nerves were too much to calm all at once, sighed and then sprinted forward with all the speed she’d garnered from endless fighting and training. 

Her legs ate up the bloody, pitted ground, forcing her Sphere escort to push their bodies after her at all the speed they could muster. Three of the constructs shot past her to form a metal wall in front of her as they passed through the no-man's land while four others curved their formation around her from behind to form a steaming silver-gold  barrier. 

“What in Oblivion?!” a  Stormcloak’s  surprised cry was cut into a gargled choke moments later, Lucina looking up to find the source. 

Hadvar’s  legionnaires had tightened their formation, presenting a wall of shields that the  Stormcloak  weapons slammed into fruitlessly as blue bodies fell. Lucina glimpsed the wide-bladed Imperial swords thrusting outwards like serpents from the gaps in the shields,  quickly withdrawing to seal the wall before any permanent damage could be dealt to the formation. 

Then two  Stormcloaks  leaped out of some recess and slammed their heavy  warhammers  into the heads of the legionnaires on the edge of the wall, dropping them in a cacophony of screeching metal  and the familiar, disgusting sound of crunching bone. 

“Die, faithless dogs!” was all one  Stormcloak  got out before a blade slid between his ribs. 

The second was immediately impaled on three blades,  Hadvar  cursing as he lifted his shield to deflect another  Stormcloak’s  axe. 

“Are the reinforcements en route?!” He shouted, grunting at another violent impact before the soldier at his side stabbed the  Stormcloak . 

Was he asking them? 

“Yes, sir!” another legionnaire’s voice made her jump and glance back to see entire lines of silver emerging from the Imperial fortifications and pickets, arrows and explosives still flying through the air. 

“Lucina,”  Katria’s  voice drew her attention back to the  Stormcloak  lines, which were peeling back into the ruins as blue soldiers continued falling left and right to Imperial missile fire. “The Imperials are pressing their attack: we’ll have to move quickly if we’re to locate that family.” 

“Right.” 

The two women trailed after the Imperial vanguard as the silver troops made their way through sharpened hedgehogs of wooden stakes and  Stormcloak  ambushes, the clashing of steel on steel filling the air with its chaotic cacophony once more. 

The clanking and hissing of the Spheres was almost a blessing in comparison. 

Lucina took in the one-sided battle with a grim veteran’s eye, pushing away flashes of massacres at the hands of Risen as blue and silver bodies painted the ancient stones red. How much death had she seen ever since she’d been born?

“Keep up, lasses!”  Hadvar  bellowed over the chorus of death and war, his formation still plowing towards the main tomb. 

More legionnaires were gone from his ranks, leaving only a dozen soldiers on their own as the rest of the Imperial forces raced forward to catch up. At least the arrows and catapult explosives weren’t coming close to hitting them. 

As if on cue, one said explosive streaked down and exploded right in the middle of one of the stone archways rising over the main courtyard, flushing  Stormcloak  archers from cover as their hide-covered armor was set ablaze. 

The stench of rotting flesh and hide burned her nostrils, heat from the flames and the chill of the snow-dusted mountain trapping her body in a conflict of temperature. 

“Naga guide me,” she whispered, briefly wondering if the Divine Dragon could even hear her in this world as she and the  Animunculi  advanced. 

Metal dinged and clanked against stone with each movement, each machine keeping its crossbow raised threateningly as they trailed the Imperial advance. 

“I think that’s all of them!” a legionnaire called as the sound of fighting trailed off into silence, save for the crackling of flames and cries of the wounded. “The others must be inside!” 

Lucina looked around, finding flames and bodies everywhere. Ruins and death once again the only background to her life. 

“Lucina, we’ll have to split up if we’re to locate the hostages,”  Hadvar  strode over to her, his silver armor smeared with blood and ash. “Be safe when you’re in there, okay?” 

She nodded. “And you.” 

The soldier grinned like a child on his birthday. “Oh, I’ll try, but trouble always has a way of finding me no matter what I do.”  

“I can say the same,”  Katria  sighed, reaching out and patting one of the Animunculi, then immediately withdrawing that hand with a pained hiss. “Hot! Hot, hot, hot!” 

“Yes, steaming metal is going to be hot,” a legionnaire spoke up, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Lucina scowled at the speaker even as the other soldiers snickered.

“Here, this should help with the burn,”  Hadvar  handed  Katria  a red vial, the adventurer immediately opening said vial and downing its contents. 

“Thanks!” the woman sighed with relief. “Now, let’s find those families!” 

Lucina nodded, glancing around as more legionnaires swarmed around them. “Let’s.” 

Hadvar  and other officers began barking orders, getting the troops into lines as quickly as possible before they too fell into position. 

The two women and their mechanical escort were in the middle of the formation, ready to break off in any direction in order to find their quarry. 

“Now!”  Hadvar  barked at the team of soldiers standing at the heavy door leading into the ruins. 

The legionnaires shoved the metal door open and immediately dove to the side, the front lines of the Imperial forces ducking behind their large shields as the entrance spewed a volley of arrows out from within. 

Shafts  thunked  into metal and wood en masse, but none of the silver soldiers fell as their formation parted to reveal their own archers. The Imperial reprisal was swift and merciless:  a score of  Stormcloak  ambushers collapsing under a hail of missiles before the others withdrew. 

“Press in!”  Hadvar  shouted. “If they surrender, take them prisoner! If not, cut them down!” 

The legionnaires shouted assent, then the first groups pushed forward, shields raised all the while as they began pouring into the ruins. The  Animunculi  inched forward as the lines in front of them advanced, Lucina inhaling slowly to calm the nerves and racing adrenaline quickening her heart. 

“Go!” a soldier shouted at them.

Ylissean  and escort joined the soldiers dashing into the ruins, the clashing of steel already echoing through the doorway as they pushed through the cramped entrance into a wide, rounded audience chamber. 

Stormcloaks  and Imperials were arrayed around the room, weapons slamming together as their lines heaved back and forth. There was some sort of throne sitting atop a raised dais, those strange Nordic dragon statues surrounding it. Both sides, for some reason, were avoiding the throne like it had the plague, then Lucina noticed the twitching corpses spasming on the ground in front of it. 

One  Stormcloak  attempted to flank the Imperials by jumping over the corpses, but a strained yelp escaped her lips as stone ground on stone. She seemed to shrink slightly, and then a flurry of darts erupted from the statues around the throne. 

“A switch that releases poison darts,”  Katria’s  voice was barely audible over the din of war. “They’re pretty common in Nordic ruins, so we’ll have to watch our step.” 

Lucina tore her gaze from the poor  Stormcloak  now writhing on the floor with all the others, her body riddled with darts. “Right.” 

The  Animunculi  tightened formation around the two women as the  Stormcloaks  took notice, surprise and alarm sweeping across the blue soldiers. The Imperials were quick to take advantage of the shock: they plowed forward in a silver tide, bodies continually dropping as the blue lines began to peel away from the battle, flooding down a flight of stairs into another corridor. 

“Move! The more we dally, the more time we give the  Stormcloaks  time to execute their hostages or use them as shields!”  Hadvar  shouted, the Imperial troops clustering back together into neat formation. “Lucina,  Katria : I would like your  Animunculi  to lead the way down. The  Stormcloaks  will be hesitant to attack you, and the resulting confusion of admitting your group will open up more opportunities for us.”

“Very well,” Lucina swallowed her nerves, dropping into the warrior’s calm she’d cultivated in her nightmarish future. “If we make the  Stormcloaks  give us the hostages’ locations, perhaps they’ll believe that the  Animunculi  will attack them if they harm the hostages?”

“We can try,”  Katria  shrugged as the mechanical soldiers herded the duo to the corridor. 

Lucina’s fingers closed around the empty space where Falchion would have been, gritting her teeth as her hand closed into a fist. Hopefully the automatons would be enough.

“Let’s move!”  Lucina ordered, the heads of the  Animunculi  nodding in unison as the group rattled forward. 

Steel clanked against the stone stairs , steam washing over Lucina’s face as the  Animunculi  rolled down in a deafening cacophony of metal on stone. She squinted through the hot bursts in time to see a long corridor winding through the ruins, more stairs descending deeper into the mountain the tomb had been carved into. 

Gods, how had the ancient  Nords  been able to build all of this? 

“Let’s move,”  Katria  murmured, the unease all too palpable in her strained voice. “And hope the automatons make the  Stormcloaks  think twice about attacking us.” 

Hope... all they could do. 

Stormcloak  soldiers shouted in alarm as the group advanced, clanking their way down another corridor and almost barreling right into a defensive line complete with walls of spikes designed to swing outwards as soon as a switch on the floor was triggered. 

A Sphere took each trap down with a well-placed crossbow bolt to the mechanisms, superheated metal searing through the wood and snapping the ropes holding it together. 

“Where are your hostages?” Lucina demanded. 

“We aren’t here to fight you, only to get those people out of here,”  Katria  added.  

The  Stormcloaks  looked back and forth at one another, then back at the  Animunculi , those with visible faces bearing wide-eyed expressions. 

“Please do not try to attack us,” Lucina pleaded as she gazed at the hardening eyes of the soldiers before her. “There is an entire battalion of legionnaires behind us ready to tear this place apart looking for those  hostages .” 

“And if you harm those people, you will not be shown any quarter,”  Katria  warned. “All of you will be slaughtered.” 

The  Stormcloaks  shared a glance, then raised their weapons. “Then let us die a death worthy of Sovngarde!” 

“Don’t be a fool!”  Katria  spat, the venom in her voice drawing a surprised look from Lucina. “Do you really think the honored dead will allow cowards who hide behind hostages into their halls?” 

“We aren’t hiding behind hostages! We’re fighting like true  Nords , unlike those faithless Imperial dogs and you who hide behind Dwarven metal!” two of the  Stormcloaks  charged, guttural roars spewing from their throats.

Lucina didn’t even flinch as the Spheres’ crossbows unloaded their ordinance in a mass volley of snapping cords and clanking metal, a salvo of red-hot bolts peppering the Stormcloaks and dropping them. 

“Anyone else?”  Katria  demanded. “We just want the hostages, not to fight you! We’re unarmed, unlike our escort.” 

Lucina lifted her empty hands to emphasize, twisting her body in an attempt to better showcase her weapon-free waist. 

“They aren’t carrying weapons,” one  Stormcloak  muttered. “Should we just let them through?” 

“Are you mad?! The Imperials are right on top of us and you want to let enemies past our formations?!” Another Nordic warrior demanded. “They’ll catch us between both forces!” 

“They’ll be surrounded by our own soldiers every step of the way. If we can push the Imperials back out, we stand a chance at holding our ground,” the first soldier insisted. “Let them pass.” 

The soldiers glared at one another a few moments more, deliberating, before they finally stepped aside. 

“Don’t attack our brothers and sisters or you’ll regret it,” one threatened. “I don’t like the idea of  using farmers for shields any more than you, so I’ll allow you to pass. If we’re to get into Sovngarde, I’d rather do it with a clear conscience and without endangering those who cannot fight.” 

Very admirable! Lucina found her respect for these warriors rising another notch. 

“Bah, fine! But if we make it through this and Stone-Fist takes this loss out on your hide, don’t expect any aid from me!” another soldier growled. 

“Wait,  Galmar  Stone-Fist is here?”  Katria  sighed. “Damn it all, that means we’re going right into a hell of a lot of  Stormcloak  fighters.”

“Isn’t he  Ulfric’s  lieutenant?” Lucina guessed, trying to recall the significance of the man’s name.

She swore Arya had mentioned it at some point...

“He is,”  Katria  nodded. “So it’s likely he has a rather large force here at his disposal.” 

Lucina sighed. “Well, we have no other choice, do we? We must press on if we are to get the hostages out of here.” 

The  Animunculi  took the cue to start rolling forward once again, metal rattling against stone and forcing the two women to hurry after them. 

Lucina’s nerves continued to remain on high alert as the duo passed into a wide chamber with a long stone table dominating most of the room, combined with dozens of  Stormcloak  soldiers and makeshift fortifications. 

It would definitely prove a tough nut to crack  for the Imperials. Would there be no way to resolve this peacefully? 

“What the hells?! How did you get in here?!” one soldier yelped, going for his axe. 

“Hold! We’re unarmed, save for our escort!” Lucina announced, lifting her hands. “We just want the hostages and we’ll leave you be!” 

“Oh, and we’re supposed to believe that? The second the hostages are  gone,  the Imperials are going to flood down and we’ll be trapped between them and you!” another  Stormcloak  spat. “It seems Caesar finally made his choice, huh?” 

“These  Animunculi  are only here to protect us!” Lucina insisted. “We wouldn’t even be here if we hadn’t been caught by Imperial scouts while trying to skirt past the fighting on our way to Dragon Bridge!” 

“Who in  Talos ’ name  are  you, anyway?” one soldier demanded. “You look familiar.” 

“My name is Lucina, and this is  Katria ,” Lucina kept her hands raised.

“Lucina? As in that girl who showed up out of nowhere near Arya Broken-Haft's camp?” the soldier said in an incredulous voice. “The one who went to Whiterun with us?” 

“That is me, yes,” Lucina nodded, a flicker of relief entering her heart. “I have no love for the Empire, believe me, but Caesar requested that I stay out of the conflict between your groups. That’s why I’m being followed by his  Animunculi .” 

“She fought with us against the Forsworn in  Markarth , if what Arya was saying is to be believed,” the soldier continued. 

“After Caesar broke me out of  Cidhna  Mine,” Lucina responded. 

“Right, ‘ cus Thonar  Silver-Blood was feeling threatened by you, I remember Arya saying that, too,” the soldier sighed. “When I was reassigned here, I wasn’t expecting to be pinned down by Imperials and have you show up here.” 

“And why should we believe her?” 

“Because if she was here to fight us, she would be armed and those machines would be ripping us apart,” another soldier pointed out. “Besides, if Caesar really wanted to destroy the  Stormcloaks , he’d have sent an army of those things to  Windhelm .” 

“Saved those faithless dogs the trouble...” someone grumbled. 

“Meanwhile, we’re trapped down here and Commander Stone-Fist still hasn’t figured out how to get past that riddle.” 

“We’re close, just need a few more minutes,” a gruffer voice drew Lucina’s attention to the back of the room, where a man dressed similarly to Arya was striding out of the hall, his gaunt veteran’s face hard as he studied her. “And you’re this Lucina Arya’s been talking about?” 

“I am,” Lucina jutted her chin out, squaring her shoulders at the authority radiating off of this older warrior. “You’re Galmar Stone-Fist?” 

“I am,” the warrior chuckled, a large  battleaxe  strapped to his back. “How about we come to a deal, hmm? We’re trapped here, make no mistake, but if we can open this damn trapdoor and get to the rest of the ruins, we may be able to spread the Imperials thin. Help us with that, and I’ll give you the farmers.” 

“Are they alive?” Katria demanded. 

“Yes, they’re alive. We aren’t going to harm our own countrymen just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time,”  Galmar  growled. “I’d hoped the Imperials would bargain for their release and let us go, but it appears I underestimated how quickly they could mobilize against us. Seems the damn milk-drinkers are good soldiers, after all.” 

“Some of them, anyway,” a  Stormcloak  scoffed. “Still had to use catapults to get us off the outer walls.” 

“But won’t you still be trapped even if you open that door?” Lucina asked. 

“Most of these ancient tombs have a secondary path or door that leads out of the ruins, a path meant for the safety of the workers if there was a cave-in or the like,” a  Stormcloak  spoke up. “That secondary entrance could get us around the Imperials.” 

“And if it doesn’t?” Lucina asked. 

“Then  Sovngarde  will be receiving a host of brave new souls for its halls,”  Galmar  said solemnly, jerking his chin back behind him. “Come.” 

Lucina sighed. “Fine.” 

Why couldn’t anything be simple? 


End file.
